


The Ice Demon and the Captain

by Lizardbeth



Series: The Ice Demon [6]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Aftermath, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Families of Choice, Found Family, Gen, Mostly Gen, Psychological Trauma, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-09-06 02:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 61,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8730775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: As Loki and Steve deal with an Earth that's changed from the past they knew, they reunite with old friends and find new family.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Ice Demon series is a canon divergent AU, in which Loki was told the truth several centuries ago, and in his upset, came to live on Earth during the 1700s. There, he eventually fathered Elsa, Snow Queen of Arendelle, but shortly after meeting her, he returned to Asgard (related in "The Snow Queen and the Ice Demon"). Loki then returned to Arendelle to try to defend it against the Nazis, and met and befriended Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes ("The Ice Demon and the Hydra").
> 
> This story is the direct sequel to "The Ice Demon and the Spider" (though it actually picks up a bit before that one ends), which tells the story of Loki and Thor's arrival on 'modern' Earth. 
> 
> Thanks to 100indecisions for the beta and stormbrite [for the art ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8575258)! This story was written for 2016 Marvel Bang, and is complete and will post in weekly installments.

* * *

 

The night was far too warm and humid to sleep, and Loki decided to spend it on the Barton veranda, drinking cold lemonade and watching the stars.

Tomorrow they planned to leave for Manhattan, so Loki could be there when Steve woke up. The thought made his fingers tremble against the glass, wondering what Steve would think. Would he despise Loki for letting him crash? Would he be angry that Loki had caused him to miss so many years of his life?

Of course he would be. Why wouldn’t he be?

What if he didn’t remember Loki at all? No one knew what would happen to a mortal in such long hibernation.

But he reminded himself that he owed Steve, so he would be there. But obligation was only part of it; he wanted to be there, see his friend again, and help him, if he could.

The bugs buzzed around him so incessantly it took a moment to realized that tickling he felt was something else.

Someone was scrying him, and as soon as he identified the sensation, the sense of familiarity made the identity plain, as well. It was Frigga trying to get his attention.

He suddenly longed for her presence – to see her, feel her touch, to hear her voice – and in that crack, she reached him.

“ _Loki_?” Her warmth surrounded him, and he was a child again, safe and protected in the shelter of her power. It was what he’d wanted from her, and to have it, was a balm.

Except he hadn’t had it when he’d needed it. Only now, after it was all over, was she here. Now that it was too late.

Fury surged out of him, smothering the warmth and shoving her back. His hand clenched, crushing the glass so the remaining liquid and ice spilled out over the shards. “ _Is it finally **convenient** to find me_?” He let her feel his bitterness with the demand.

“ _Loki, please, you must let me explain_ \--”

“ _I don’t have to do anything. And I won’t_ ,” he retorted. “ _I want none of your excuses. I want nothing to do with Asgard, or with you. If I change my mind, I will let you know. Until then, leave me be_.”

He spun the seidr threads into a shield and slammed it between them, hard enough to fling her back. Then, he tied it off so she would stay away from him. He didn’t want to hear anything she had to say: no excuses, no explanations, no protestations. Nothing.

Let her know what it felt like to call and not be answered.

He headed down the steps and out into the fields, knowing he had to work off this rage that knotted itself in his chest before it choked him. It had little to do with Frigga, he knew that in the part of his mind still able to reason, and much more with reacting to her inadvertent reminder of what he’d rather forget. There was too much boiling beneath his skin, but worse, if he let it settle there, it would turn cold again, hate and anger freezing out better emotions.

He remembered Elsa’s voice, making him promise not to let his heart get frozen again, and though he’d failed her after Steven had vanished, he would try this time to do better.

He stopped beneath the trees that marked the edge of the western field, far away from any other people. One hand grabbed a thick branch until the wood creaked.

He cast his gaze upon the darkness of the fields and vowed:

 _I will remember Lila and Cooper, and Elsa and Anna, and Steven and James and Margaret who reminded me of friendship and love, despite neglect and pain. I will remember them, and I will not let the darkness consume me. I will not become the monster I was born to be, no matter how the Norns keep trying to force me to that path_.

He dug his fingers so hard into the bark his joints twinged and throbbed, reminding him of his previous injuries, and he had to let go, letting out a breath as he shook both hands to get the blood moving again and try to put the memories aside.

Making a slow circuit around the house, he told himself it was a sweep to check the perimeter. That sounded useful though he knew it was not necessary when few people knew this place existed.

 _Oh, but that’s not true is it? Fury knows. He could be Hydra. One of those close to him could be Hydra. They could be out there, getting ready to assault this house. Helicopters, gas, bombs... they have so many more choices than they did back in Schmidt’s day_.

He stopped walking, knowing he was working himself into a panic over nothing. They weren’t coming for him. They didn’t know he was here. Logically, even if they did, enough of them were dead they couldn’t mount an operation so quickly after Strucker had been taken down. Natasha had told him that, and he knew she believed it was true.

 _Relax, breathe, stop imagining the worst, he told himself. Remember what Natalya showed you in the hospital and remember your training. Breathe slowly, concentrating on each inhalation and each exhalation, one after another. I am not there, and my enemies are dead_.

In the dark, away from anyone to see, he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead as if to push the memories out of his mind, as he concentrated on counting between each breath and ignoring the tightness in his throat. The effort worked and he managed to slow his heart back to normal and take easier breaths.

Weary but not willing to sleep, he returned to his seat on the veranda and decided to wait out the sunrise.

* * *

In the morning, Laura presented him with an empty duffel bag. “For your things.”

“Do I have things?” he asked, curious.

“Clothes? Those are yours. And your toothbrush.” She smiled impishly. “Please don’t say you don’t brush your teeth. I need a good example for Cooper.”

He raised both hands, giving in. He glanced at the boy. “I most certainly do clean my teeth, and so should you.”

Lila held up her flower picture. “You wanna take this, right? I made it for you.”

He took it from her, handling only the edges. “Of course. I was always going to have that with me,” he promised her. “But I didn’t think I needed a great big bag for one picture.”

“What about Blue Bear?” she asked and held up her blue stuffed animal. “He keeps bad dreams away. You should have him.”

He bit his lip, feeling utterly flayed against the little girl’s innocent concern. She knew about his bad dreams, even though he hadn’t let himself have one since Thor had left. But he wouldn’t lie to her either, so he knelt on the floor and pushed Blue Bear against her. “That is a kind thought, Lila. But Blue Bear is your special friend.”

“But if you--” she started.

He touched her nose to halt her words. “Could you draw me a picture of him? I think that would work as well.”

He eyes lit up and she nodded and scampered straight to her drawing area on the kitchen table.

“She’s gonna miss you, y’know,” Clint said to him, when Loki was back on his feet.

“And I will miss her,” Loki said, folding his arms as he watched her draw. Something in his heart always eased around the children, especially small Lila and her winsome face. “I would never have expected that a year ago, but I am glad, nonetheless.”

“Make sure you come back for her birthday party,” Laura told him and teased, “I won’t even make you be the party magician.”

Loki returned the jest, letting his lips curl into a smirk. “Oh, I could entertain them. I know many tricks.”

“And how many are appropriate for a group of six-year-olds?” Clint retorted.

Loki flicked his fingers and scoffed, “Today’s mortal children are so sheltered. They can handle more than you believe.” He thought of the violent executions he’d seen children watch, some with vicious glee, and yet he gave no examples out loud, so Lila couldn’t hear. She could handle it, but why should she? And of course, he had no wish to frighten the other children, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pull a trick or two. Rabbits out of top hats seemed a fairly basic requirement of Midgardian magicians, and since rabbits reminded him of the book, he could summon one. Or perhaps something more interesting....

Clint and Laura exchanged a look, as Natasha touched his arm, saying, “I think just being there would be gift enough. You should pack your things, so we can get into the city.”

He heaved a sigh, so she would know he was acceding only because he didn’t want to argue, and took the bag to the guest room.

He packed the clothes and the toiletries that had ended up his, though with his powers back he had no true need of any of it. He supposed it made the Bartons feel better that they weren’t sending him away with nothing. But truly, the only thing he wanted was the flower picture Lila had made for him.

He ended up with that picture as well as the blue blob with four limbs that was supposed to be Blue Bear, and a book that Cooper had hesitantly offered when Loki asked if there was anything he could have from Cooper as well. It was a popular children’s book that Loki knew about vaguely.

The best thing he took with him was the memory of Lila’s fierce hug, and his memory treacherously reminded him of Elsa’s embrace when she’d bid him farewell. He’d intended to return after that, but time had slipped past as it always did in Asgard, and he’d never seen her alive again.

His throat closed up around the thought that Lila might also die before he saw her again. He inhaled a deliberate breath to settle his fears and smiled at her. “I will return for your birthday party, I promise. I will search for a suitable gift.”

“I want a lightsaber!” she exclaimed. “And a pony. And drums!”

Clint murmured through his smile, “FYI, I will murder you if you give her a drum kit.”

Well then he knew exactly what to get, didn’t he? His eyes met Lila’s, and when he grinned, she burst into peals of laughter. The sound stayed in his ears well down the road, heading for the city.

* * *

“ _Oh_ ,” Lukas said, and leaned into the window to watch the skyline of New York as it came into view across the water.

Tucked into the backseat behind him as Clint drove, Natasha smiled. He sounded so impressed. It was always a treat when his ancient cynicism was overcome by something new and surprising. “You haven’t seen New York before?”

“It has been some time. It is very... big now.”

“Much bigger than it was in the forties, that’s for sure,” Clint agreed.

Lukas leaned back in his seat, able to admire the view through the windshield as the road turned. “I was not in America during the war. I was last here in,” he paused to consider, “seventeen-- I forget the year. I was invited by Benjamin Franklin, whose acquaintance I had made in London. As much as I despise aeroplanes, I am glad we need not travel by sail any longer. That was genuinely the worst.”

Clint darted a look at him. “You knew Benjamin Franklin? Are you serious?”

Lukas looked at him as if he suddenly doubted Clint’s intelligence. “I told you I was interested in pushing forward science in that era. How could I not know him? I stayed briefly in the Colonies, and I doubt I am even remembered.”

Natasha pulled out her phone. “Let’s see. What name did you have then?”

He tapped his fingers on the window sill until he came up with it, “Luc de Veiully, a scholar of natural sciences.”

Curious, she typed it in and searched. “Nope, you’re wrong. There’s a page on Wikipedia.”

Clint barked a laugh. “How many times is he in there?”.

“Four so far, counting the comic book Ice Demon,” she answered absently as she read. “It says you were an influential abolitionist.” She frowned. “You protested slavery?”

“Influential? It says that?” Lukas asked, surprised, but pleased. “Well, good. It is a vile practice throughout the Realms, and Asgard does not approve. But my main intent was to refute the idea of some human races being somehow inferior by nature. I,” he hesitated briefly, glancing upward, and when he spoke, it was with a tension in his voice of something deeply personal, “I have a great loathing for such arguments, misusing science to bolster such harmful lies. You are all human, and your surface differences are negligible.” Aware that he’d let the conversation get heavy, he shot a smug look over his shoulder and teased, “You are all equally inferior.”

She thwapped the back of his head with her water bottle, and he chuckled, reaching back. She let him find her knee and give it a squeeze in apology. “So, what else does it say?” he prompted. “That I was devilishly clever? Mysterious and handsome?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. There’s not much really, just that you were a part of the scientific circle for about a decade and only a few letters survive after your visit to America. I assume you changed identities?”

He nodded. “When I went back to Europe, I did not return to London. Some had noticed my appearance was unchanging, and it was best to disappear. I went east to wander Persia and meet their mathematicians, before I heard a story about the Snow Queen and that drew me north again.”

Natasha listened to his matter-of-fact recitation of living in the 1700s and inwardly shook her head. She lived in strange times. But she thought Laura had the right idea: they needed to get Lukas to start writing things down or oral histories, at least. His knowledge should be preserved. It could be a valuable legacy for the Ice Demon-- someone who remembered real history and who had known people who were otherwise only names in a book.

The city’s charm wore off for Lukas as soon as they hit traffic and crawled through the tunnel. “Is there no other way?” he complained when they had barely moved for five minutes.

“There is, but you didn’t want to take the train,” Clint reminded him.

Lukas blew out a breath and folded his arms. “Flying cars,” he muttered. “I will work on it with Stark. He is already close with his repulsors. We will make it happen, for your transportation sorely needs to, as Cooper says, level up.”

“I don’t know, do we need to make Stark richer?” Clint asked.

“I can’t do it on my own,” Lukas pointed out. “And I will not give it to a government to isolate into weaponry.”

She had to nod agreement with that. She knew SHIELD’s first impulse would be to control that technology into the quinjets and other armament, and that was trusting that Nick Fury had good intentions. Recent events had proven his organization was not as pure as any of them had hoped, and she trusted SHIELD a lot more than she trusted any other government agency.

Clint nodded. “Well, I can’t argue with anything that’ll let me drive my car up and over all these morons. But then morons will have those cars, too.”

“Yes, I am aware.” Lukas sighed. The silence held for a moment, while Lukas glowered at the traffic ahead of them. He tapped his fingers on the window, bored and increasingly restless. Finally, he asked, “Do you have any objections to slipping out of this reality? I can shift the car enough for us to drive through.”

“That would be great--” Clint started.

Natasha, a little more used to magical things and their costs, asked, “Why would we have objections?”

Lukas glanced at her and wrinkled his nose. “It can be strange and bothersome; I am not certain how tolerable it is for mortals.”

“But not dangerous?”

She didn’t like that he had to think about it before answering. “Dangerous in the way all magic is dangerous, I suppose. Unforeseen consequences are something of a given, I’m afraid. But mostly I expect unpleasantness.”

“Alright,” Clint said. “Fire it up. If it’s too terrible, you can bring us back out, right?”

“Certainly.” Lukas reached out to lay his hand where the door met the frame, near the mirror. He inhaled a deep breath and let it out slowly. As he did so, a greenish flicker appeared on the back of his hand and at his fingertips. It spread outward, racing along Natasha’s window to the back, barely visible except as a small flame like a stove set low, and crackling as it passed.

When the flames met at the opposite corner, the wave of intense cold washed across and through her, and something flashed, as out of the corner of her eyes, not quite seen.

But the change was far more obvious outside the car. A distortion rippled around them, bending the sidewalk and the bodega. The signage changed to something unreadable and strange. Another wave of distortion took the building away and for a split second, she saw empty land of trees and grass. A different brick building appeared and vanished, to become the bodega again.

“Whoa,” Clint said. “Was that a horse?”

“Drive,” Lukas commanded through gritted teeth. “Forward.”

Clint stepped on the gas gingerly, nudging the car up against the bumper of the car in front of them. It flickered into three different cars and into a wagon, and they were inside it.

Natasha’s stomach roiled with nausea at the sensation, as the wrongness shivered across her skin.

“Oh, God, you’re sure this isn’t hurting them?” Clint asked.

“We’re not existing at the moment,” Lukas explained tightly. “You can go faster.”

Clint pressed on the gas, and the flickers and distortions came faster, things there and then gone nearly too fast to comprehend.

She glimpsed buildings made all of metal, some made of stone, some of curves and colors that looked wrong. There was lava, and once there was a flash of nothingness, just a void, as if the entire world had disappeared out from under them.

Clint braked at something, and while they were slow again, a face pressed to the glass – leathery grey skin and yellow eyes, nothing human at all – and she threw herself back with her fists up to protect her face, wishing she had on her tac suit.

But it was gone, and she blew out a relieved breath. “What was that?”

“Different dimensions, not all of them pleasant. Just be glad I didn’t do this in the tunnel. Underground is always worse,” Lukas replied dryly. “Two hundred meters more, then be ready.”

Clint’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and she had one last glimpse of a smoky dark sky and huge bat-winged creatures, before abruptly it all reverted with another greenish flash.

They were back into traffic, ordinary brick buildings to one side of the street, park on the corner… a horn blared to the right and she heard the squeal of brakes. She braced for impact, as Clint stomped on the gas, shoving them forward out of the intersection and across the red light.

“Jesus! That was close.”

Lukas settled back in his chair and observed blandly, “Traffic seems better.”

“That was some weird shit. I never want to see that again,” Clint declared, voice ragged and one hand gesturing in Lukas’ direction.

Natasha patted Clint’s shoulder. “Good job, partner.” But she was more curious about what she’d seen. “Were those alternate realities? Times that could have been?”

“Some,” Lukas answered. “Others are dimensions that exist apart from time. Usually I would pick one of those to travel through, since I lose no time emerging, but with so much to bring with me, it was easier to stay on the border of our own and let the others slide against us. I hope it was not too disturbing?” he glanced back at her. “You both handled it well.”

“It was weird,” Natasha answered, “but fascinating to see all the differences. Some had Manhattan, and some felt like they weren’t Earth at all.”

“Still getting used to this ‘magic’ thing,” Clint said and shuddered violently. “There wasn’t much in your bio about you doing stuff like this.”

“I didn’t use it much in the war,” Lukas said. “I didn’t want them to know what more I could do.”

She didn’t know if “them” were Hydra or the SSR, but she guessed it probably didn’t make much difference. But he trusted her and Clint enough to demonstrate to them, so she wouldn’t betray that trust by revealing it and she knew Clint wouldn’t either. In admiration and meaning to reassure him, she said, “With these powers, you can’t be held anywhere.”

He tensed, but answered levelly, “Schmidt proved otherwise.”

She grimaced at her mistake and curled a hand over his shoulder in apology. “We won’t let it happen again,” she promised.

“Hell no,” Clint agreed. “Unless you get Lila drums, then… I don’t know, I’ll have to think about it,” he teased.

Lukas took it in the spirit Clint intended, relaxing beneath her hand. “A pony it is. You should be glad she didn’t request a unicorn.”

“They’re not real,” Clint insisted, and when Lukas didn’t say anything, he tossed a narrowed-eyed glance at the passenger seat. “They’re not. You’re making that up.”

Lukas kept a smirk on his lips and didn’t respond, no matter how Clint pressed him about unicorns.

The remainder of the trip was ordinary and uneventful, and Natasha leaned back to enjoy Manhattan as it should be.

* * *

Loki cursed his own impatience that had caused him to reveal a form of teleportation. He stared out the window and regretted not tolerating traffic longer, instead of making his impetuous offer. He shouldn’t have done it. He couldn’t take it back now, but he’d have to be more careful.

He saw little he recognized of the city, but since he had memorized the simple map, it was not difficult to track where they were, even if he wasn’t sure where they were going until they arrived.

Barton pulled up to the curb. “Here we go. SHIELD New York HQ, conveniently located near Times Square for that extra tourist flavor.”

It looked like an ordinary office building, grey stone and glass, marked only by the number above the glass doors. “C’mon,” Natasha urged him, as she shoved open the back door. As soon as the doors shut, Barton waved and pulled away to find a place for his car.

There was nothing outside that said SHIELD, but the security visible within the glass was too heavily armed. The sight of tactical gear made his throat close up. Natasha noticed he’d paused and touched his back. At his inquiring glance, she murmured, “I’m with you.”

Which was more reassurance than it should be, since it wasn’t as if she’d been able to keep them away from him last time. But he was not as he was then, and he needed to be strong. “Shall we test if Fury believed me about keeping his staff in line?” Loki asked lightly.

“He believed you,” she answered, taking his question seriously.

“I hope so.” He headed for the door, and held it for her to enter first.

She headed directly for the door-like scanning machine and walked through, displaying an ID card to the guards on duty. When she was through, she beckoned him to follow. As he approached, the magnetic field was uncomfortably strong and he balked. “No.”

“It’s a metal detector,” Natasha explained.

“For weapons, sir,” one of the guards explained. “If you just step through...”

“Weapons?” Loki repeated and smirked, summoning a dagger to his hand as he reached beneath his jacket. “You mean like this?”

The guard reacted, stepping back and putting a hand on his gun. “Put the knife down, sir. No weapons are permitted inside the facility.”

Loki flicked his fingers and sent it away. “What knife?” They did not seem reassured when it disappeared.

“Lukas,” Natasha said in a reproving tone, but he ignored it.

“I will carry all the weapons I wish, and I will not be prodded or poked or scanned,” he retorted sharply.

A male voice from behind Natasha cut in. “He’s cleared to enter on my authorization.”

The nearer guards snapped to attention. “Agent Coulson.”

The other guard complained, “Sir, this is very irregular. No ID, no clearance, carrying a weapon...”

Coulson lips gave a twitch. “Sergeant Lewis, this man is the Ice Demon of Arendelle. So let’s be polite to our guest and let him in.” Coulson opened the plastic chain and held it aside. “Mister Onsdag, please.” Once Loki had passed the flimsy barrier, he clipped a card to Loki’s lapel. “There, now you have a pass.”

Loki looked down at it with distaste. The card held his name – Lukas Onsdag – and a copy of the photo he’d taken in the police station in Arendelle and was used on his passport, and big red letters “visitor”. “If I must.”

Coulson chuckled. “It does make things easier, as you can tell. Come, this way. Agent Romanoff--”

She interrupted before Loki could tense about the possibility that they were trying to draw her away, “I’m sticking with him for now. I’m sure you understand.”

Loki wasn’t sure Coulson did or not, but he nodded. “As you wish. This way.”

There was a pair of doors that slid aside for them, and Loki hated the way he tensed when they shut behind him. There was a high atrium, with a circular staircase going upward, and glass elevator beyond that. He inhaled a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling and its SHIELD bird symbol prominently in the skylight to put its shadow on the floor. There were other people, not just armed soldiers, bustling about on the upper levels, paying him no mind.

He called power into his hand as he followed Coulson up the staircase, to remind himself that he was not powerless this time. They would not catch him unprepared; they would not catch him weak.

Nothing untoward happened, as Coulson led the way to the next floor, down a long dull hallway, and to a door that he opened with his keycard. “Here we are. He’s been moved from the lab where the techs defrosted him, and is now in a room to wake up on his own. This is the monitoring room,” he said, pushing open the door.

Within was a dimly lit office space, with two computer workstations and numerous extra monitors. There were three agents within, all wearing uniforms that seemed reminiscent of those he remembered of the war. But before he could think too much about the oddity, his eye was drawn to the monitors where he saw an image of a bedroom.

There was a single bed and a simple dresser, and the room was lit by a window one on side. In that bed, lay Steve Rogers.

Loki didn’t realize he’d said anything aloud, until Coulson answered, “Yes, he’s there. Alive. And doing well. Medical thinks he’ll probably wake in the next twelve hours. His recovery has been-- well, a miracle really. And to have you both back at once….”

“The Norns work as they will,” Loki murmured. Realizing he was making a spectacle of himself, he shook his head once sharply and turned his head. “I certainly did not expect either of us to return. So, what is the plan, Agent Coulson?”

“We thought – well, Psych thought, mostly – it would be an easier transition for him to see some familiar things, that’s why--” Coulson gestured toward the uniforms and in the direction of the monitor.

A tall woman with the hair style and clothes of a nurse during the war stepped close. “Agent Van Pelt,” she introduced herself. “We intend to transition him to the present gradually. So if you--” her voice failed her, wide eyes staring at him, professionalism abruptly overcome. “Are you really Lukas Onsdag?”

He smiled, put more at ease by her enthusiasm. “I am, yes. Though my current passport is Luke Rendell. Agent Van Pelt.” He took her hand to kiss the back. She laughed nervously until he let go. “I would think Captain Rogers would be more exciting than I am?”

“Well, he’s asleep,” she said, and he had to chuckle, because he could see how watching someone sleep was not that exciting. “But no, really,” she added, “he’s from here. From--”

“Brooklyn,” Loki interrupted dryly. “I believe I heard him mention it.”

“But you’re not,” Van Pelt said, clasping her hands in front of her. “I mean, that’s what I heard? That you’re not actually from Earth? You’re from another planet?”

His thoughts drifted to Asgard and Jotunheim, and how he didn’t want to go to either. “Another Realm,” he corrected stiffly.

Van Pelt was about to ask something else, but Natasha intervened, “Do we wait here for him to wake?”

“I want to enter his room,” Loki declared. “To see how he is recovering for myself.” He could see Steven on the screen, but that didn’t mean Steven was here. He could be on the other side of the planet and this could all be a lie. Loki didn’t think it was -- he didn’t believe Coulson and Van Pelt were lying to him, but he still wanted to know for certain.

“Of course,” Coulson said. “We want him to wake with you near. But it might be awhile--”

“It has been decades already,” Loki interrupted, feeling that Coulson was trying to discourage him from going in. “Hours are immaterial to me.”

It turned out his suspicions were untrue, as Steven was in fact, the next room over. They went through the opposite door in the observation room, into a larger airy space with several high windows which seems more barn-like than office building. Within that space was a lower temporary wall of bare wood beams visible and a simple wooden door set into the frame. “What is the meaning of this?” he asked.

“We had to build it in something of a hurry,” Van Pelt explained. “Here, go on in.”

Within, it was a theater set, he understood suddenly. All seemed as it had been once, decades past, and it was quiet except for the whirr of the fan, the soft static and murmur of the radio, and more distant hum of traffic.

And the softer but present sound of breathing.

Without looking away from Steven, Loki murmured, “Natalya, you need not wait wait me. I thank you for your companionship.”

Her hand gripped his arm. “I’ll be close by.” Releasing him, she left.

As her footsteps went away, he nearly called her back, wondering if this was when they’d make their move. But then he looked at Steve again and knew he was here for a reason.

“Is everything all right?” Van Pelt asked. “With the room? We did as best we could to duplicate what it would be like?”

He looked around without much interest and shrugged. “I spent little time in places like this. So I wouldn’t know. It seems adequate.” He knew the noise of the traffic was wrong, but there was nothing to be done about that, except realize this charade would not last.

He addressed Agent Van Pelt. “You may leave us.”

“Yes, sir.” She closed the door behind her quietly and he was alone with Steven. Not unobserved, he knew that for a fact, so he did nothing odd, only pulled a chair close to the bedside. But before sitting he held a hand above Steven to check for himself that, in fact, he was merely sleeping and he was well.

He was.

Loki closed his eyes in relief, and sat on the chair to wait. He could use his powers to waken Rogers, but there was no need. It was best if he wake on his own, and Loki could be patient.

Leaning back, he pulled out Cooper’s copy of Neville Potter, which he had promised to read. Thus far Loki was at a loss why it was such a literary phenomenon, especially with such a ridiculously bad magical system, but he had promised he would read it.

 

* * *

 

He became so absorbed in the novel that he didn’t notice when Steve stirred. In fact, he had no idea until Steve said his name that Steve had moved.

Which was not the best start to Steven’s time in the present, and his embarrassment and surprise caught him even more unprepared to look into Steve’s face, blue eyes alight with life, as the memory of standing on the ice and watching Schmidt’s plane go down with Steve on it flashed through him, and the guilt rose up like a suffocating wave.

He couldn’t keep it together, when Steve asked if he was all right. Because that was not a question Steve should even be asking. Because Loki had left him there for dead, and he was here, alive, and talking, and asking Loki if he was all right.

Loki’s eyes burned with sudden tears, and he tried to push them back, knowing this was weakness and tiredness and guilt. Steve didn’t need to know this when he’d just woken up.

But he looked so… alive, and Loki couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out, “I should never have left you alone. I was stupid and reckless and you-- and I lost you, and it was my fault…" He shut his eyes, bending down to hide his face in his hands, gasping for breath as the book thumped to the floor.

"Hey, no," Steve reassured him, "No, Lukas. It's okay, it's all right." His hand gripped Loki’s shoulder, rubbing in gentle circles but it made Loki feel that much worse.

He choked out, "It should have been me…"

"No, don't say that. It's not your fault, Lukas. I'm here, you're here – I'm glad you're all right." Loki shook his head, letting his hair hang over his face, so he didn’t have to see Steve’s far too forgiving face. "It's okay, Lukas. You saved me."

That was almost laughable in its wrongness. "No, I didn't," Loki insisted. He rubbed at his eyes and wiped his cheeks with his palms before lifting his head again. "You don't know, Steven. You don't know what's happened."

Steve frowned, not understanding. "Know what?"

Loki glanced at the door, wondering if they were going to come in, but he couldn’t keep lying to Steve. The truth was hard enough, but to lie to him about something so important? He couldn’t do it. He inhaled a settling breath, and told Steve in a level tone, "The year is 2011. You were preserved in the ice, asleep, for sixty-seven years."

He saw the denial and incomprehension flit across Steve’s face, that this couldn’t be true. That it was ridiculous and Loki was making a stupid joke. And then his eyes, when he understood it was true, were so devastated they punched a hole right through Loki’s chest.

All he could think was: _I did this. This is my fault_.

* * *

 

tbc...

 


	2. Chapter 2

They ran. To nowhere in particular, just away. Out. They were leaving the SHIELD facility and its facile lies, but Loki knew they wouldn’t truly escape. Because, in the end, there was nowhere to go. They could run and they could hide, but for what? To live like rats in the detritus of the world, until some other group identified them and scooped them up?

No. Loki would not live that way, and he doubted Steve would either. He would rather make a stand and get something from an alliance.

So when the big black cars were pulling to a stop around them, forcing other traffic away with angry honking, Loki called a kernel of energy to his hand, ready to hurl it to defend himself and Steven, but held it, waiting to see how it would play.

The cars surrounded them but stayed back, and only Fury came out. "Mister Onsdag, you weren't supposed to engineer a patient escape."

"Patient?" Rogers called back. "Is that what I am? A patient or a prisoner? Your fake hospital, your fake nurse--"

"To ease you into it," Fury answered. "Not lay it all on you at once. But apparently Mister Onsdag believes in ripping off the bandage."

Loki returned his look, unrepentant. "I thought at first it would be a kindness, but a well-intentioned lie is still a lie. And it makes the reveal no better in the end.”

"We’ll never know, will we?" Fury stepped forward. "I should introduce myself: Nick Fury, Director of SHIELD. The successor organization to the SSR. We dug you out of the ice about two weeks ago, and my doctors have been carefully thawing you out of hibernation since." He glanced around, taking note of the gathering crowd wondering what was going on. "We should get off the street before some cell phone video of you two gets on YouTube. Hungry?" he asked. "There's a deli around the corner; we can talk."

Steve hesitated, looked to Loki for direction, and Loki nodded.

"Yes, I think I'm hungry," Steve answered.

Fury nodded his head. "This way." He gestured to the other cars to drive off, and only a few minutes later, -the three of them were sitting in a booth in the back of a deli. Steve looked around as they entered, and though he looked at the television mounted on the wall, nothing else seemed to draw his attention. The place was not modern in its décor with wood wall-paneling and faux-leather booths, though Loki was sure Steve noted the computerized registers and the patrons with their cell phones. People looked at Fury with his dramatic coat and eye-patch, but paid no mind to the two following him.

Steve said nothing on the way, and luckily for Loki’s nerves, was willing to go on the inside of the booth.

"Basket of fries, three pastrami and swiss, coffee, and water,” Fury ordered and to Loki's surprise the waitress smiled at him.

"Sure thing, darling. Good to see you again."

As soon as she was gone, Fury stretched an arm across the back of the booth on his side and his lips twitched seeing them across the way. "You want to move to a table?"

"I'm fine," Steve said, though they were pretty crowded. The booth was small enough their shoulders touched, and Loki had his feet in the aisle, to give Steve more room. Steve leaned forward. "So. You said the SSR. SHIELD. What do you want from me?" he asked.

"It's more what you want," Fury said. "When you were found, alive, we weren't going to leave you down there. And since Mister Onsdag was happy to ease you through the transition –"

Loki stiffened at the irony of his tone, wondering if he should've followed the plan after all. Steve seemed all right so far, but Loki thought some of it was shock, and that was going to fade eventually. But that moment would still happen, even if he’d gone along with the pantomime.

"I'm glad you told me," Steve reassured Loki. "I mean, I'm not glad it's true, but I'm here. I just don't know... what's next."

"Next is," Fury hesitated to let coffee be put down before them, "– thanks, Corinne – Next, we eat our lunch. And I tell you about my idea. Since you're going to need to transition to the modern world, and Mister Onsdag volunteered to help you do that, I was thinking to put you up here in the city.”

“Why?” Steve asked. “In return for what?”

“Nothing,” Fury answered but Loki leveled a stare at him.

“Nothing? You don’t seek to add Steven to your Initiative?” Loki asked.

Fury lifted a hand. “Can you wait for one god-damned minute before springing all this on him?” he demanded irritably. “Yes, I have an idea for you, for the future, but that’s not relevant right now.”

“It is if you seek to form an obligation,” Loki returned unimpressed. “There is very little in this world that comes free. And I will not have you put Steven blindly in your debt, so he thinks he has no choice.”

“I’m just trying to help,” Fury protested.

Before Loki could express his doubt of that – or at least his doubt that the ‘help’ came without strings, Steve interjected, “Then help. I see the cars, I know they’re different. Hell, that small movie screen,” he indicated the television showing sports mounted above, “is amazing. I can’t even tell where it’s being projected from. So I know I’m in the future. I know I’m going to need help to find my feet. I just...” he stopped and shrugged, and he looked at Loki. “At least we can do it together, right? I want to hear him out.”

Loki nodded. “Yes, of course.” He sipped at his coffee to discourage himself from interrupting Fury’s pitch again.

“Thank you,” Fury said to Steve. “Anyway. So, there’s an apartment here, not far away actually, that SHIELD has as a safehouse. You two can have it. Not forever, we’re not that generous with Manhattan real estate, but long enough to get adapted to modern Earth. Take some walks, ride the train to Brooklyn, see the old places, whatever you need to do. Take some time.”

“And then?” Steve asked.

“Well, when you’re feeling more comfortable, the world is gonna know you’re back. The thing you should know is, the memory of Captain America didn’t go away. So people are going to be interested. Excited. You’ll probably have your pick of what to do, by then.”

Loki thought of what ‘interested’ could mean, and the coffee turned bitter in his mouth. Strucker had been ‘interested’ in him; someone else might be equally interested in Steve Rogers, the only known successful supersoldier recipient.

Steve was quiet, and drank his coffee, thinking or just overwhelmed. Into that silence, Corinne brought their lunch and after she went away, Steve stared dubiously at the stack of meat and immense pile of fried potatoes. “This is more food than I think we had in a week,” he said, with a shake of his head, but lifted the sandwich to take a long sniff, closing his eyes. “Oh God, that smells great.”

At first unsure whether he was hungry enough to eat, Loki poured ketchup for dipping his fries. Cooper had introduced him to the practice since he ate everything with ketchup, and it was oddly delicious in its sweet foulness. Loki suspected it was secretly laced with some addictive substance. After nibbling a few fries and getting a curious look from Steve that he wasn’t eating, he started on the sandwich as well. But there was something about Fury that reminded him that he was eating at a table and he needed manners, so he pulled out the sandwich contents to eat with utensils.

Fury watched them both eat with something like pride before going on. “So the simple answer to why I’m doing this, is because if word got out I left you out on the street like a beggar, I’d get fired and SHIELD would be burned to the ground, because you’re a national hero. Our obligation is to you, not the other way ‘round, whatever Mister Onsdag believes.”

Loki sniffed skeptically at that, because while that was true, that didn’t mean Fury didn’t want Captain America to join his little band of Avenger Initiative “volunteers” and was prepared to give him a very long leash in order to do it. But he only said dryly, “I’m sure SHIELD rescuing Steven does _nothing_ for your reputation.”

“I didn’t say I got no benefit, now did I?” Fury returned. “But SHIELD is willing to foot the bill while you get your head together and figure out what you want. If that ends up with me, great. If not, I still get to say my people pulled you out and brought you back. Now, for the details.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket. “These days, you need identification and money, so here’s a set for you, Cap.” He pushed a thin black wallet across the table and Steve opened it up.

His eyes widened seeing the green paper money tucked inside. “This is… this is too much.”

Fury laughed. “Inflation, Cap. It’s not that much. And I have something for you, too,” he handed a small booklet to Loki. “I thought you’d want it replaced.”

It was a duplicate passport to the one Hydra had stolen from him. Surprised to get anything at all, Loki seized it. “My thanks.” He opened to find it was in the name Luke Rendell, and smiled, handing it to Steve to look at. “I have an Arendelle passport now.”

“Nice. It’s new?” Steve asked, admiring it the gold foil design stamped on the purple cover.

“The old one was lost,” Loki answered, flicking a look at Fury to keep his mouth shut about how it was lost. Luckily Steve was looking at the picture and didn’t see.

Fury got the warning and gestured for Corinne to come over and refill their coffee, as Steve read the name and asked, “Luke Rendell?”

Loki shrugged. “I was trying to be anonymous.”

“Mister Rendell, here, is famous, too,” Fury added dryly, but then said, more seriously to Loki, “Word’s getting out that the Ice Demon was in Sokovia and connecting you to the destruction of the fortress there. It’s just a matter of time before you’re recognized, too.”

“Fantastic,” Loki muttered.

“Sokovia?” Steve asked curiously.

“I’ll tell you later.”

By which Loki meant ‘never’, but Steve accepted that with a nod and handed the passport back for Loki to tuck into his jacket pocket. “I suppose I need one, too.”

“We have to get a picture of you awake for ID,” Fury pointed out. “But that’s for another day. Go ahead, eat.” Watching them finish their plates, he added, “I’ll increase the food allowance twenty percent.”

Steve paused as if he was embarrassed briefly, but ate everything in his basket and half of Fury’s sandwich as well, when Fury lifted it up in offer.

After they left the restaurant, they headed to the apartment. As they walked, Steve looked around curiously. “It’s so strange,” he murmured to Loki. “So much glass. But other than that, it looks pretty much the same.”

“Buildings endure unless removed or suffer calamity. And people still must eat,” he nodded to a restaurant as they passed, “and wear clothes and shoes. But not hats,” he added after a moment. “Very few people wear hats today. Pity.”

They had to wait to cross the street, as a tour bus came by with a massive sign on the side for the Intrepid museum. Loki saw Steve’s brow furrow as he read the information. “The Intrepid. It was new, I remember reading about the launch. Now it’s a museum.”

“You might want to check it out,” Fury suggested, looking over his shoulder. “They’ve got a good display of the history of what you missed. And they’ve got a space shuttle.” Fury dropped that casually, and Steve’s reaction didn’t disappoint.

“ _Space_ shuttle?”

“America put men on the moon, Cap.”

Steve was impressed, but Loki rolled his eyes. “Humans. So impressed with themselves.”

Steve’s frown deepened. “Aren’t you human? You were born with your abilities, I know, but you’re human.”

Loki hesitated, realizing he’d never actually told Steve the truth. “Not… exactly. No.”

“So, what are you?” Steve asked.

Loki grinned at him. “A demon, of course.” He stepped off the curb as the signal came up to walk, daring the taxi attempting to get around the corner in front of him. The taxi slammed on its brakes, honking at him, as the driver made rude gestures. Loki was tempted to put a boot on its bumper and shove it away, but mindful of his anonymity, he tossed a bit of seidr instead, conjuring an illusory snake into the taxi’s front passenger seat.

The driver’s yelp was audible all the way across the street, and Loki smirked.

* * *

The apartment building was a modest, low-rise brick building with a few steps up to a main door. “Here we are,” Fury said and headed up the steps.

Steve tilted his head back and looked around. “This was a crap neighborhood when I was a kid. Too rich for me, but still crap,” he said wryly. He followed Fury up, Loki tagging along behind more slowly.

Inside there was a hall and stairs both up and down, and an elevator that looked as old as Steve himself. They climbed up one flight to the open door to the right.

“Come in,” Fury invited and strode inside.

Loki hesitated, unsure if this was a wise thing to do. An apartment to stay in felt strangely settled. The only place on all of Midgard he’d wanted to stay had been Arendelle, and even that, he’d never stayed too long. This would be temporary – Fury had said they couldn’t keep it- but still, his own place felt strangely like the potential for growing roots. And he wasn’t sure he wanted roots. Not here, not yet.

Yet being alone was not the answer. In the absence of other family, friends would have to do. And certainly Steve needed his help right now, so there was no real choice to make.

Inside, the had a short hall, with a kitchen to the right, bedroom and bath to the left, and opened up into a living/dining area with two windows, and a second door on the far wall to another bedroom. The walls were a dull pale beige and the furniture was basic and even Loki could tell from his short time in 2011 Midgard, that it was not current.

Natasha was standing at the small round dining table, and she smiled to see him come in. “You left HQ in something of a hurry,” she teased.

“We were bored,” Loki retorted, and introduced, “Steven, this is Agent Natasha Romanoff, of SHIELD. Natalya, Steve Rogers.”

Steve shook her hand with a smile. “You get a nickname, so you must be a friend.”

“I am,” she answered without hesitation. “Good to meet you, Cap.”

“Agent Romanoff, I trust you can manage here?” Fury asked.

“Yes, sir. I have the rest of the package.”

“Good.” He turned a baleful eye on Loki and Steve. “Get settled, see the city, learn some history.” Those were definitely commands, not suggestions, the way he uttered them, but Steve didn’t bristle, just nodded. “I’ll see you in a few days.” Then Fury added a tiny bit more warmly, “I’m glad you’re back, Cap.”

With a last nod, he swept out of the apartment and the door shut behind him.

“Package?” Loki asked Natasha, curious.

She dumped a brown envelope onto the dining room table. “Two phones. Keys. An information packet.” She scanned over it, lifting her brows skeptically. “Looks like it was made by the psych department, probably mostly useless but you should take a look. Credit cards. And Coulson told me, under no circumstances, are you to use these to buy tickets to _Hamilton_.” She glanced at Loki and grinned. “If you can get us tickets? I will give you anything you want.”

Laura had already told him about the musical, which was only a few months old but difficult to find tickets for. He’d been less interested since he’d actually met those people, but she’d pointed out that was why he should see it. And if Natasha was truly that interested… well, perhaps he needed a credit card less than he needed persuasion. He’d earned the sobriquet of Silvertongue long before he’d become the Ice Demon. This should be a piece of pie.

He asked her archly, “ _Anything_?”

But she met his gaze and he had no idea if she were bluffing as she said, “Anything.”

It was more amusing to realize Steve was glancing between the two of them, frowning, trying to figure out what that teasing meant.

Which was, nothing. As attractive as she was, and as good as her touch felt, he knew it would be a mistake. Getting involved with mortals so intimately would bring only more pain. That he didn’t know how he would react made it that much more obvious that he shouldn’t do it.

“Hamilton?” Steve asked.

“A musical about Alexander Hamilton,” Natasha explained.

“The guy on the twenty? Has a popular musical?” Steve asked and added more to himself, “Now I know I’m in the future.”

His tone was incredulous and dry, but Loki thought the heaviness behind it was real. He asked Natasha, “It might be good to have a night out. Steven, too, I mean. But I know nothing of how such things work – where one should apply money or appeals to access these tickets.”

Her eyes met his, fully aware of what he might mean by ‘appeals’, but she said only, “I’ll look into it.” She watched Steve head toward the window and stare out of it, then picked up one of the phones from the table and typed into it before handing it to Loki. He read “Natalya” and her number. “My cell. In case you need anything. I should let you get settled in. There are menus on the counter for delivery.”

She touched Loki’s arm and gave him a questioning look with a head-tilt toward Steve to make sure he’d be okay, and Loki nodded.

“I’ll stop by later,” she said and the door shut behind her moments later, leaving Loki alone with Steve in the borrowed apartment.

It lacked the warmth of the Barton home, with sparse décor on the dark wood shelves and the framed art prints on the beige walls were bland nature scenes, probably painted by machine. That could be why Steve was looking out the window, though Loki suspected it had more to do with looking at the street outside, picking out the differences and similarities, from what he remembered.

Silence held at first, and instead of poking at it, Loki examined the things on the table and then found his bag had been left in the corner by the kitchen. He carried it into the far bedroom, but realized it had an attached bath, which would be of more use for Steve than it was for him, so he turned around and took his bag to the other bedroom across from the kitchen.

One large bed, a nightstand, small closet, and dresser, all of it plain, though at least the bed had been made with sheets and a navy blue blanket. He dropped his bag on the bed and went to look over the kitchen.

Steve was still standing at the window, while Loki checked the refrigerator and cabinets. Steve’s silence was growing heavy. “We have plates,” Loki announced. “Condiments. Something in the cabinet, I am not certain if it is food or building materials.” His jest got no reaction, and Loki pulled the drawer for the freezer, which was empty. “I see why Natalya mentioned menus, as there is no actual food in this place. There is, however, beer. Because no apartment is complete without ketchup and beer apparently.”

Steve ignored the conversational gambit, and Loki was deciding whether he should go over to him or leave him be, when Steve abruptly turned around. “I knew you weren’t enhanced like me,” he said. “You were born with your powers. But you’re not human.”

Loki wasn’t sure that was a question until Steve added, “So what are you really? Not a demon,” he flicked a hand in decisive rejection. “I don’t buy that. Are you from Earth?”

Loki hesitated, realizing how terrible this timing had been. He’d forgotten that Steve didn’t know. He answered, coming nearer to Steve but stopping in the middle of the room to give him some space, “No. I was not born on Earth.” It still felt strange to say aloud after he’d spent so long pretending to belong to humanity.

“You’re from Mars? Outer space?” Steve asked.

Loki couldn’t help a smile. “Mars is a barren cold place, and no one comes from there. But as the true answer has no meaning to you, I suppose ‘outer space’ is adequate.”

Steve gestured toward him. “But you look human.”

Loki thought of his true form, but he didn’t want to make this worse by showing that monstrous visage. So he answered with a bit of a shrug. “I do. But I have abilities your kind does not, and I came to this world about three hundred years ago. I have used several names in Midgardian history, Lukas Onsdag and Luke Rendell are merely the most recent. Those stories about the Ice Demon are all me.” Then he thought about what he’d read and corrected, “Well, except the ones they made up.”

Seeing Steve’s face, so still, and his eyes so blue in a face gone pale, as if this were a bigger shock than finding out he’d slept through sixty years. Or perhaps it was too many shocks all at once. Loki was reminded of Fury’s admonition to stop blurting out the truth.

“I am sorry,” Loki said after another silence. “I should have kept quiet. You’d think with my years I would be more wise.”

“You’re three hundred years old?”

He nodded, and this time, held his tongue that he was actually quite a bit more than three hundred. The exact number of years didn’t matter; three hundred was plenty to a mortal. He gave a little laugh and tried to look sheepish. “I know. It does sound absurd when said aloud. And I truly did not want to bury you in all of this.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

The note of betrayal in Steve’s voice was difficult to hear, but Loki reminded himself it was not undeserved. “I told no one,” Loki corrected, though that wasn’t quite true. He’d told James most of it, but that was all. “It was a secret I have kept a long time. Now Earth is more ready to learn they’re just one of many species of people in the universe, so I have been more forthcoming of late. But that makes no difference; you should not have had to learn that today.”

Steve nodded slowly. “No, it’s okay. I guess it’s good to know all of it.”

When Steve fell quiet again, Loki offered, “I need not stay here, if this is too strange for you. My presence is meant to help you, not make this worse. Yes,” he nodded to himself, “I will have Agent Van Pelt sent in, she can help you settle, and I will remove myself--”

Steve snapped out of his daze, lifting his head and interrupting, “No. No, don’t go.”

“But, Steven--”

“You’re still who you were during the war,” Steve said. It was not a question, but Loki nodded confirmation anyway. Steve gave a little laugh. “It’s not like I didn’t know you were hiding something. I just figured you’d tell me when the war was over, and we had more time.”

“Well, the war is over,” Loki pointed out, “and we suddenly have a lot more time than we expected when we were on Schmidt’s flying wing.”

Steve snorted and shook his head. “This is so weird.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I can’t even imagine all the things I missed. All the catching up I have to do....”

Pleased that Steve seemed to be recovering from the revelation of Loki’s true nature, Loki tried to offer, “It’s not so different. Humans remain the same, only the details change.”

“I guess that’s reassuring.”

“Have a seat,” Loki invited. While Steve sat on one end of the sofa, Loki took out two beer bottles from the refrigerator and offered one to Steve.

As Steve accepted it, he glanced at the label and to Loki. “It’s not going to affect us.”

Loki shrugged. “Social habit.” He popped off the top of his bottle with his thumb and held it out. “Welcome back.”

Steve tapped his bottle against Loki’s. “It’s good to be back.”

* * *

...tbc...

 


	3. Chapter 3

The same things kept running through Steve’s mind, like little cockroaches scurrying out into the light and back into the shadows: _sixty years, asleep for sixty years, everything’s different, and Lukas is from another planet, how is all that even possible_?

He was going mad. Or maybe he was already mad. But mad or not, he was alive. So he had to deal with it. It was true and real, and he’d seen the buildings and the cars and he knew this was the future.

He didn’t really believe Lukas was from outer space, that still felt like a fairy tale. He looked so normal sprawling in the chair and drinking beer, while flipping through the papers left for them.

Well, “normal”. His hair was too long, brushing the tops of his shoulders and curling at the ends and where he tucked it behind his ears. He was wearing the same black suit trousers and white, button-up shirt with the green necktie, not even loosened, as if it was comfortable that way.

He glanced up, sensing Steve’s eyes on him. “What?”

Steve wasn’t going to say any of that, so he waved to the big picture frame with the black shiny interior, sitting on the table across the rug from the sofa. “So what is that?” Steve asked. “I assume it shows pictures like the one in the deli?”

“Television,” Lukas said. “Like a combination radio and motion picture. Has a variety of programs, like news, sport, entertainment.” He grabbed a small handheld device. “You control it with this wand. It uses infrared signals, not magic, despite the name.”

The television made a strange popping groan and the screen flickered before coming to life, as a color image of a man spraying his garden with a hose while a voice intoned something about killing weeds.

“Advert,” Lukas said and pushed a button on the wand. “So I change the channel, up or down, until I find something interesting. Here.” He tossed the wand to Steve. “You try.”

Steve snagged it, and with a little experimentation figured out what the symbols meant, and was clicking through, astonished. Even radio hadn’t had so many channels of different things and all of it in brilliant color and sound. He stopped on a baseball game, glad to see something familiar and amazed to see the different views. He’d seen less at a game in person than he did on this television.

He watched the game, letting his mind focus on something that wasn’t bizarre was a relief. At least until they mentioned the Los Angeles Dodgers.

“What? Los Angeles! That’s stupid! How could they move there!” he demanded, incensed.

“I have no idea,” Lukas said, mildly, but seemed amused by Steve’s anger, which made him angrier.

He was so agitated, he jumped to his feet and alternated crossing his arms and gesturing. “They were Brooklyn, my team. And now they’re in Los Angeles! I can’t root for the fucking Yankees! You know, I could handle the future, I can handle you being from some other planet, but I can’t handle the Dodgers in California!”

Looking up at him, Lukas watched with a smile dancing on his lips and suggested innocently, “There are also the Mets, I believe?”

Steve gagged at the thought, and Lukas burst out into laughter, shaking his head. “Of all the things to find appalling in this time, the transfer of one sports team to another city seems fairly minor, Steven.”

“It’s...” he waved a hand vaguely, helpless to explain. “My town. A symbol. And now that’s been yanked away, too. I thought they’d be in Brooklyn forever, but they’re gone.” He settled back on the sofa, tired now that the temper had passed. "It's different."

“I should not have laughed,” Lukas said after a moment. “This is difficult, I know.”

Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked down at the SSR undershirt he was wearing, wishing he’d been able to keep the fantasy of it still being the Forties just a little while longer.

But that wasn’t real, and he’d have to get used to the truth no matter how long it was put off. He was in the next century, so he’d better deal with what was true.

He stood up again, restless. “You want to get out of here for a little while?” he asked. “I want to see the city. I think that’ll help me figure this out.”

“Of course,” Lukas agreed. He went to the table and pocketed some things from the table.

Steve put his shoes back on, and they left, clattering down the stairs. Outside on the sidewalk, they paused. “Where do you want to go?” Lukas asked. “The park? Downtown? Back to Times Square?”

Steve glanced left and right and decided east. “Let’s explore.”

They headed back toward the new skyscrapers of Midtown. It was warm, but the trees were turning leaves, announcing that it was truly fall, despite the current warm spell.

Without Fury hastening their steps, Steve could stop and look at whatever he wanted, and Lukas would explain as best he could, though occasionally he gave a shrug of ‘ _humans are strange, how should I know_?’ It was nothing he hadn’t done during the war, but it made more sense now that he understood Lukas wasn’t just a superhuman spy from Arendelle.

But finally, his wandering path made sense and he looked up, knowing this was where his feet had been carrying him. “Let’s go in.”

* * *

Loki tagged along after Steve, as Steve poked his head into various shops and lunch places. It was helpful for Loki to see the city, since he was not nearly as familiar with it as Steve seemed to assume. Other than memorizing the map, which kept him oriented, Loki understood far less about the city than Steve did, even sixty years after he’d lived in it.

When Steve found his destination, Loki craned back his head to one of the tall buildings and read the sign. “The Empire State Building?”

“Let’s go up,” Steve said. “I want to see the city from on high.” Inside the glass doors into the lobby, he paused, looking around. “It’s just as it was,” he breathed. “This is – this is amazing.”

The line to get tickets was the opposite of amazing, and Loki pulled out his phone like everyone else in the line as they waited.

“That’s a phone?” Steve asked, impressed with the small size.

“It’s a phone, but also a radio, television, newspaper, and source for information, all on this tiny screen,” Loki listed off. “Definitely a technological leap of recent years.”

“Show me?”

So Loki showed him the phone, and it was probably their relative ages, but Steve seemed to pick up its use even better than Loki did, despite Loki’s familiarity with higher technology elsewhere. Or perhaps it was because it was a human phone made by humans, so it was more intuitively obvious to Steve. But in any case, he was soon reading Wikipedia while they stood in line.

It was maddening to wait in line, when he could’ve cloaked them in illusion and skipped the line altogether, but Steve shook his head when Loki offered it. “No, I want to wait. I remember when Bucky and I came, not long after it opened. Spent every dime we had, waited in line for hours, but, y’know, standing up there, seeing Bucky’s face at the sight…. It was worth every penny,” he murmured.

When it was time to buy tickets, Loki figured they’d done enough waiting, and asked about the fastest way to the top. Steve gasped and nearly had a coronary when he heard the price. “Lukas! Oh my God, that’s so expensive, that’s too much!”

Loki slapped the card on the table and pushed it to the clerk. “Two,” he confirmed. “To the top. As quickly as possible. I’ve had quite enough of nostalgic queueing.”

The clerk nodded and printed their passes and handed two souvenir books to Loki, who promptly passed them to Steve.

Heading for the special elevator line, Steve hissed at him, “That’s not even our money.”

Loki glanced at him. “Nonsense. That credit card is to help you get oriented and what’s better to get oriented than one of the tallest buildings in the city? They surely foresaw that cost.”

“But--”

Loki cut off his objection, pointing around the corner to a room full of people waiting in yet another horrific queue. “We could be over there. So think of this as SHIELD’s welcome home present and let’s go up.”

On the first transfer area, they were fed through a photographing area, where Loki was going to walk straight through, not wanting his photograph taken, but Steve tugged him back. “C’mon, they’re just trying to do their job.”

“Their job is to take photos that they offer for us to purchase at ridiculous prices when we leave,” Loki corrected him.

“We don’t have to buy it. Come on.”

So Loki stood next to Steve to have their photo taken against the dull green background, and he was sure Steve was smiling as Loki stared at the camera, not wanting any part of this.

He did wonder, as the attendants hustled them off with their claim ticket to get to the next group behind them, whether anyone would ever figure out it was them. Captain America and the Ice Demon taking tourist photos at the Empire State Building might be worth something, once the public became aware they were in this time.

Finally they were in the next elevator to go up to the observation deck. Going outside, he had the delight of watching Steve’s face transform at the sight of his city laid out at his feet.

He gripped the safety fence and looked for a long moment. They faced downtown, toward the high towers that way, and Loki stayed next to him, more interested in Steve’s face than the city laid out before them. “It’s so big,” Steve murmured. “So tall. So… everything,” he finished, a little helpless-sounding.

“I remember it as a pit,” Loki said dryly. “Cholera, sewage, pig farms -- it was vile.”

“Oh hush,” Steve jabbed him in the ribs with a sharp elbow. “Be quiet. I’m trying to be amazed.”

Loki chuckled but stopped needling him, following as Steve circled the deck, looking and pointing out the landmarks he recognized.

When they faced Stark Tower, all modern glass and curves, Steve stared at that one for a bit longer. “Stark?” he asked. “Howard?”

“His son, Tony,” Loki corrected. “Howard died in 1991.”

“Oh.” Steve wasn’t seeing the tower or the city beyond it, looking blankly into the past. Given where he was looking, Loki shouldn’t have been surprised, but he had no idea what Steve was talking about when Steve said, “You can lay it on me.”

“Lay what?”

Steve tapped his fingers against the formed balustrade and the metal of the fencing, and had to take a deep breath before he said, “Bucky. Peggy. When did they – when did they die?”

A smile spread across Loki’s face, irrepressible. Finally, he had some good news to share with Steve. “They didn’t. They’re both still alive, Steven.”

Steve stared at him. “But, they must be – ninety years old!”

“So are you,” Loki retorted.

“They’re not--” His eyes flared. “Oh my God, did they get some kind of serum, too?”

Loki grimaced, and Steve’s face fell at his expression. “I did not intend – no. They are elderly, but still alive. I’m told James is … well-preserved.”

Loki thought the dry words would get Steve’s attention, but instead it was something else. “You’re told?” he repeated. “You haven’t seen either of them?”

“No,” he answered, thinking that Steve was much braver than he was to ask about their friends so quickly. “I only recently found out they were still living myself. And they are located in the DC area.” He looked out across the skyline towards Stark’s building. “There wasn’t time to visit, when I wanted to be there for you when you awoke.”

Steve frowned, confused by something, but shrugged it away. “Then we need to go visit.”

“We will,” Loki agreed. “I think you could use a few days of transition before traveling there, though.”

Steve stiffened as if he wanted to argue, before letting out a short laugh and relaxing again. “All right, I get it. You don’t think I’m ready.”

“No,” Loki answered. “Not yet. Steven, they’ve waited this long, they can wait a few more days.”

“What if….”

Steve couldn’t make himself finish the speculation, and Loki found he couldn’t either. So he said, giving a tight shrug, “Then we know it wasn’t meant to be.”

Steve hesitated, looking away, pressing his lips and brows drawn tight in distress, but he nodded finally, in acceptance.

While Loki wouldn’t say the Norns couldn’t be that cruel, because of course they could, he suspected it was the other way around, that Steve had been recovered and Loki had come back to Midgard at this time, so they would have time to see their friends again.

They stayed on the observation deck as long as Steve wanted to look at the city. Loki would normally have gotten bored and restless, but he was tired enough to wait patiently and watch the city, standing behind Steve's shoulder to force other people to go around them, while Steve leaned on the rail and looked across the river toward Brooklyn.

“Are we going there?” Loki asked.

Steve shook his head. “Not today. Tomorrow maybe. It seems too far today.” He turned away from the view. “You ready to go down?”

Below at the photo station, Steve held out his hand for the claim ticket. “Come on, we’ve got to look at it. It’ll be good to have a memento of this day, won’t it?”

Rolling his eyes but resigned to Steve’s enthusiasm, Loki held out the ticket and in an appallingly short time, he was also pulling out his credit card again to buy a ridiculously overpriced photo. But not even the price dissuaded Steve from buying it once he saw it. In the image, Steve was smiling, arm hanging over Loki’s shoulder, while Loki looked straight at the camera with such a disgruntled expression even Loki had to admit it was comical.

He made Steve carry the little bag, though.

They stopped for pizza on the way back to the flat, and as the server walked away, Steve stilled and leaned forward to murmur, “Do you think SHIELD is following us?”

“Certainly they are tracking us,” Loki answered. He hadn’t caught them at it, but he also knew his phone was sending out a signal and SHIELD knew where that was. “Why?”

“There’s a man who sat down behind you, and he’s watching us in the mirror above the bar.”

Wondering if it was SHIELD or someone was recognizing Steve, Loki flicked his eyes at the mirror, gaze colliding with the watcher’s, who looked away hastily, flustered and blushing. Loki smiled. “I think he finds you attractive, Steven. Nothing alarming.”

Steve cleared his throat. “Oh.”

“There were more than a few people on the tower who were also ‘checking you out’, as they say these days,” Loki kept going, cheerfully needling his discomfort. “That T-shirt is rather… snug.”

Steve looked down as if only just realizing that a shirt that might as well be painted on was not the way to be ignored. Not that anyone was going to ignore that face and physique if they had eyes, but Steve was always charming when he was embarrassed.

He looked up and tried to toss it back at Loki to make him embarrassed, “ _You_ noticed.”

Loki smirked and leaned back in his chair, at his ease. “Steven, I was noticing men long before you were born.”

He blinked. “But you and Natasha-- I thought – Sorry, I was assuming--”

Loki raised his brows. “Oh, you weren’t wrong. Well, you’re wrong if you think we’ve done anything, but not wrong that I find her attractive.” He shrugged. “But I’m old, I bore easily, and as they say, variety is the spice of life.”

Steve drank his beer, musing over what he was saying. “During the war, you never--” he gestured and added, “seemed interested. In anybody, really, now I’m thinking about it.”

“Because it was the war, and I wanted no attachments to any who would soon perish.” Not that it had worked very well, but that had been the idea.

“And now?” Steve asked.

Loki looked into his glass, watching the little bubbles chase each other to the surface. “You can’t hold on to something so tightly that you can’t let go of it. That’s still true. Even if it’s a difficult piece of advice to take.”

“That doesn’t prevent casual relations,” Steve said, with a careful euphemism that made Loki smile.

But since the path of ‘casual relations’ went straight to Elsa’s mother and had ended up causing him more pain than anything else he’d ever felt, he sidestepped the implicit question with a smirk. “No, it doesn’t. So if you’re looking for a little… relaxation, let me know.”

But Steve was far less flustered than Loki expected by the offer, blue eyes blinking and looking back, before he responded levelly, “Maybe I will.”

Feeling his bluff very definitively called, Loki found his lips dry and his heart was thudding noticeably, as what had been a more aesthetic appreciation for Steve in his T-shirt abruptly became a mental image of his fingers on those broad shoulders. And in a split second he’d pictured it, all the way to Steve’s graceful, but strong hands sliding down the front of his trousers.

… _hands touching him_..

Recoiling in his chair so hard his knee slammed into the table and the beer sloshed dangerously, he grabbed for the glass to steady it.

“You okay?” Steve asked, frowning. “I didn’t mean to shock you, or --”

“I’m fine. There was a – a bug. Startled me.” Loki held himself to one swallow, even if he wanted to gulp the rest of the glass, and he tried a laugh. “You and that innocent face- I forgot how quick you are.” He held out his glass for a toast and then, thank the fates, the food arrived.

When they returned to the apartment, Loki busied himself with putting Lila’s pictures on display in his bedroom and unpacking his few belongings into the empty drawers and bathroom.

Steve emerged from his room, freshly showered and in a change of clothes, similar to what he’d been wearing before, but the T-shirt said SHIELD on it and shorts. He flicked on the television, and watched it with his phone beside him to look up references with only occasional questions of how to spell something.

Loki had never been bothered by not understanding random historical or cultural references. He gathered the meaning well enough to play along or simply made it clear he didn’t care, because he didn’t. Yet living with the Bartons had made him familiar with a great deal of it, through their eagerness to share their favorites with him.

However, gaining an encyclopedic knowledge of Disney Princesses did not seem to be of much use watching shows that were supposedly humorous but only through their pop culture references, and he was soon bored and texted Natasha: “ _Rogers settling well. We went to ESB and ate pizza_.”

She returned. “ _I heard. rest tonight. see you in the a.m_.”

Disappointed by the end of the conversation, he decided to look himself up online, but when Professor Randolph’s work on the Ice Demon came up immediately, Loki stabbed the phone off.

Steve groaned afterward and in response to Loki’s inquiring look answered, “There’s so much. I’m trying to read the summary here, and it’s … I don’t know who half these people are. So then I look them up and--”

“Steven,” Loki cut in. “None of it is really important. It’s the past. It’s history. And while that’s useful to learn, it’s not going to help you deal with today.”

“But everything I missed --”

“Do you think all these people,” Loki gestured toward the window, “know the history of the last sixty years either? Humans are mostly ignorant and insular, and care only about what directly affects them.”

Steve straightened as if he wanted to argue with that, but Loki gave him a look not to start with him. “I’m more than three hundred years old, Steven. I have seen much of this world and the people in it.”

“And it’s made you cynical,” Steve accused.

“In three hundred more years we’ll have this conversation again and you can tell me if I’m wrong.”

Steve paused and shook his head, frowning. “Three hundred years? I’m not gonna-- I’m not like you.”

It was Loki’s turn to frown. “Are you certain? Perhaps not ‘like me’ but you did not age at all in six decades; I would expect the serum to grant you a great deal of longevity. Is that not so?”

Steve sat back on the couch and looked blindly at the screen of his phone before slowly setting it on the end table beside him. “I don’t know,” he answered finally. “Professor Erskine didn’t tell me, and then he was gone. I hadn’t thought about it.”

Loki opened his mouth to suggest they go to Tony Stark or some other trustworthy scientist to test and find out, but the shut it again. No, he would not suggest that his friend become a laboratory plaything. “Well, I suppose we’ll find out in time. Selfishly though, I will admit to hoping I’m right, and your lifespan continues beyond the average of your kind. It will make the years on this world much more tolerable.”

“Thanks,” Steve said and smiled wryly. “Nice to hear.” Then his jaw widened with a yawn he belatedly tried to cover with his hand. “Oh my God, sorry, that’s unbelievable! How am I even tired? I slept for sixty years!”

He sounded personally affronted by his sudden tiredness, and Loki had to smile. “You had a rough day, Steven. Get some rest.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

Loki pressed his lips together and offered, “I can put you to sleep. If you like.”

Steve’s instant wide-eyed alarm was enough of a refusal, but then he blurted, “No, no, that’s all right. I – I mean, thank you, but no. That sounds helpful but no.”

Loki held up his hands and retreated a deliberate step. “Then I will not. Please, I do not wish you to fear me.”

“No, I don’t,” Steve said, even though t hat was plainly a lie, given the reaction he’d just had. “I just – I’d rather do it naturally, if I can.” He stood up, got a few steps to his bedroom door then turned around. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

It tilted into a question, so Loki nodded. “You will.”

“Okay. Good. G’night.”

“Sleep well.” He watched Steve enter the bedroom and when the door shut, Loki grabbed his phone and went to his own room. He didn’t try to sleep though, he sat on the bed and decided to research Broadway shows. Natasha had mentioned one and adverts were plastered all over this part of the city, so there was quite a bit to learn. 

He kept the volume low to sample some of the music and settled in to spend a quiet night while his friend rested on the other side of the apartment. 

* * *

...tbc... 

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good sized chapter for the holidays, I hope you enjoy! I'll be traveling next week and not likely to update so hopefully this will tide you over. :) 
> 
> If you'd like to read A Very Ice Demon Christmas Special, you can go back and read "The Ice Demon and the Hydra" Chapter 9, "A Christmas Interlude", since I don't have time this year to write something new, which makes me very sad, but it's how it goes.
> 
> Merry Christmas, and a happy new year to all of you!

* * *

In the safehouse bedroom, Steve lay there on his bed, eyes flicking open each time they shut and heart pounding with the sudden anxiety that if he fell asleep, he'd sleep another lifetime away.

But he stayed there, telling himself it was stupid. He needed rest, and he knew it. Lukas was right that today had been fatiguing. There was so much information, so many bright lights and sounds to take in….There was just so much of _everything_ in this time, it was overwhelming.

Here in his room, all that was far away. The traffic noise wasn’t that different from the sounds he’d grown up with, and otherwise everything was quiet. He felt less physically tired and more wrung out, but he should be able to sleep.

But his fears wouldn’t let him. Another half hour of tossing restlessly, he gave up and flicked on the light. He picked up the phone to find something else to read and maybe help himself fall asleep that way, but found himself too restless for that. He’d go find something on the television. Or no, he should go running outside.

Shoes back on, he cracked open his door. The living area was dark and deserted, so Lukas had gone to bed. But he only got two steps down the short hall toward the front door, when Lukas' bedroom door opened to reveal Lukas standing there. He arched his brows at Steve and absurdly, Steve felt like Colonel Phillips was back and glowering at him in disapproval. Even though Lukas didn’t look disapproving, only curious, Steve still felt a pang of guilt for being caught out.

So Steve asked first, “You can’t sleep either?”

Lukas was still in the same clothes, the room behind him was lit up, and the bed still made, so it seemed Lukas hadn’t tried to sleep yet, though it was well past midnight.

"I don't sleep much," Lukas answered.

"Funny, because I slept too much."

Lukas' gaze flicked down, as if the sad joke had struck too deeply. Steve opened his mouth to try to stop Lukas from feeling guilty about that, but Lukas looked up again, trying to smile as he asked, "What were you intending to do?"

"Go for a run. You want to join me?" Steve invited.

Lukas didn’t complain about the hour, only pondered the question for a breath and nodded. “All right. Give me a moment to change.” He shut the bedroom door and Steve headed back to the living room to wait. He’d reached the couch but not sat down to wait, when the door opened. Lukas had changed out of his suit trousers and button-front shirt, to a white T-shirt and pants made out of some shiny black fabric with a stripe up the sides.

“Shall we?” Lukas gestured toward the front door.

The city wasn’t dead at night, but it got a bit sleepy, especially as they turned uptown away from the night-life. Their steps made steady beats against the sidewalk, except when they had to dodge the trash set out for pickup and the occasional person sleeping there.

The park itself was dark and could’ve been spooky, except there was no danger to him. Not with the serum in his veins, and not with Lukas, who had once caught a bullet in his hand, running next to him.

Once, way back when, Steve would never have gone running in Central Park after midnight. Of course, he couldn’t have run anywhere, anyway, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have done it so late, because it was dangerous.

But back then, not that long ago and yet now ancient history, the most dangerous person in the park had been anyone else but Steve.

It was an easy pace, faster than a jog but nothing he couldn’t sustain for hours if needed. He glanced at Lukas, who was pacing him, and Steve smiled. It was so good to have someone who could keep up with him.

They’d rounded the north end of the park and headed back downtown, when he heard the distinct sound of a fist hitting a body, muffled by clothes, and the gasping cry of someone getting beaten. It was a familiar sound, and Steve’s feet slowed, for him to listen for where it was happening.

A gruff voice carried, “Shut up, there’s someone near.”

That gave away their position and Steve trotted that way. Lukas went ahead a few steps, before he noticed Steve was going somewhere else and followed. At the edge of one of the path lights, there were two men above a third, crouching down.

The two standing men turned, alarmed, but got less so when they saw what looked like just a runner.

“Hey, fellas,” Steve greeted.

“Get out of here, man, this isn’t your business,” the taller one said, and then his eyes flicked to see Lukas coming up behind Steve. “Both of you. Scram.”

“See, I could, but you’d just keep beating the hell out of that guy, and I can’t just pass by. So you two need to move along and let this guy go.”

His voice was reasonable, Steve thought, but of course they didn’t listen. The shorter one pulled a switchblade, and took an aggressive step forward. “Dude, fuck off.”

Lukas moved up next to Steve. “Oh, they think they’re intimidating, Steven. How cute.”

“Cute?” the aggressive one snarled. “I’ll show you cute, motherfucker.” He swung the knife in Lukas’ direction. Lukas was like water, slipping to the side and grabbing the knife hand and doing something with it, so the guy cried out and the knife clanged on the ground. It landed close to the victim, but he remained curled up, either too afraid or too hurt to move.

“Lukas!” Steve warned, meaning not to kill him or break his arm, since Lukas was in position to do either, immobilizing the smaller man against himself, one arm around the neck and the other hand had a grip on the wrist.

It might have ended there, except the taller companion pulled out a gun. “Let Tommy go! Or I’ll shoot.”

Steve eyed the gun, fingers itching for his shield. He could get to the gun, but could he get to it before it fired?

“Oh no,” Lukas exclaimed in a mocking tone. “A gun.”

“I mean it! Let him go, or I’ll shoot.”

“Oh, you can try. But here’s your problem: if you fire, I’ll break Tommy’s fragile little neck,” Lukas purred with something dark and coldly angry in his voice. He twisted his hand and Tommy cried out. “Or maybe I’ll shatter the bones in his wrist.” Tommy’s knees buckled, and he jerked his head in a vain attempt to get free and garbled some kind of plea.

“Lukas!” Steve said, wondering if he was going to have to attack Lukas to get him to back off. He looked the gun-wielder in the eye, reading the uncertainty. “Put it down, son. And both of you walk away.”

“Walk away?” Lukas repeated, objecting. “No. They need something to remember why it’s a terrible idea to beat up people in Central Park. In the middle of the night. Where no one can hear you.” At each phrase he tugged on Tommy’s arm, making him cry out each time.

Tommy’s friend looked from one to the other, wide-eyed, and his hand shook, “You’re crazy, man. I have a gun! I could kill you.”

“Well, that’s the problem with your threat, you can’t. Here, take him back.” Lukas shoved Tommy away, into the gunman, and in a split-second, Steve saw what was going to happen: the gun was going to fire right into Tommy, as the finger pulled the trigger in fearful reflex. Steve was already leaping, as Lukas pushed, and grabbing for the gun to make it point away.

The sound cracked through the quiet night, and everyone in the pile flinched and cried out, wondering if the bullet had hit anything. Luckily it hadn’t.

Steve plucked the gun away, rolled to his feet, and hurled it into the lake. He turned to confront Lukas. “What the hell was that?”

Lukas folded his arms and smirked. “I let him go. Just as he wanted.”

“You were trying to get him killed!” Steve returned, furious that Lukas was finding this amusing. “What the hell happened to you? You--”

Lukas’ eyes flared and he flung out his hand in warning. “Steven!”

Steve whirled to find Tommy had found his knife, and was rushing him. Steve grabbed and punched him, and when Tommy’s friend came into the fray, Steve flipped him hard against the ground.

Both were lying there, moaning, while their victim was staring at his rescuers, astonished.

“You were saying?” Lukas said blandly to Steve. And Steve winced, knowing he’d been hardly any less violent than Lukas had.

“Holy shit,” the victim breathed in wonder. “Who the hell are you?”

“Nobody. Just a kid from Brooklyn,” Steve answered shortly. “Do you need the hospital?”

“No, no, I’m okay.” He seemed to stand all right, cradling his ribs on the left side after Steve had pulled him to his feet. “Thank you.”

“Go on, get out of here. We’ll handle these two.”

Lukas added, “But in case they were beating you because you also are a scum-sucking lowlife criminal, be warned that karma is a real force. You’ve been given a chance, and if you reject it, it will come back on you. Go.”

He nodded, looking dazed enough Steve hoped he didn’t walk into traffic, and stumbled off into the dark, leaving him with Lukas and the two others on the ground.

Lukas picked up Tommy’s knife and examined it. “Cheaply made, Tommy. The steel in this will break with any kind of force, and the edge is so dull it wouldn’t cut an apple.” He snapped the blade and tossed the two pieces into the trash can, turning to Steve. “Are you ready to go back?”

“I was kind of hoping they’d come at us again,” Steve admitted, and Lukas’ smile was bright with mirth.

“It is much more fun. But no, I think they’re down and they’ve learned their lesson.”

Tommy pushed himself up on one elbow to glower at them. “Next time we see you, we’ll teach _you_ a lesson.”

Lukas went to one knee by Tommy, who flinched back, but not quickly enough to avoid Lukas’ hand grabbing his hair. “No, you won’t, because next time I see you, my good-hearted friend there won’t stop me from ending you. So keep your head down,” he shoved Tommy’s head into the dirt, “and out of my way.”

He stood up and sighed, looking at Steve. “Let’s go. I tire of these hostile children.” He started running and Steve ran after, staying a bit behind to mull over what he’d seen and heard.

When they were back in the apartment, Lukas scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I need a shower.”

Steve wanted to discuss what had happened, but decided they were both probably too tired to deal with it right then. “I’m going to try bed again.” Lukas was starting to close the bathroom door when Steve added, “Lukas? Hey, uh,” Lukas’ face went tense, probably from expecting Steve to harangue him about his actions. “In the morning-- this is stupid-- but if I’m still asleep, would you make sure I wake up? I don’t want to miss anything, sleeping too long.”

Expression softening, Lukas nodded. “Of course. I will wake you.”

“Great. Thanks. Good night.”

“Sleep well.” He closed the door to his bathroom and Steve went back to his room, more invigorated than tired out by by the run and the fight. But in the end, it did help, and after the water had stopped running on the other side of the apartment, Steve dropped into sleep.

* * *

Steve snapped awake and was upright as he opened his eyes, heart thumping with the sudden fear that it’d be 2050 or some damn thing.

But the room was the same, with brighter sunlight glowing around the edges of the curtains. Rubbing his face he let out a breath and decided he might as well get up.

In the main room, Lukas was already up. He wore a long-sleeved pine green sweater, thin as a shirt but knitted, and black slacks. He looked up when Steve emerged and smiled a greeting. “Good morning. Unfortunately there is little to eat, since no one thought to stock anything.”

Steve went to peruse the kitchen, since he hadn’t yesterday, finding it pretty bare as Lukas had described. “I still have an instinct I need to make do with what’s here,” he observed wryly, “but I know I don’t have to. Let’s go find breakfast and we’ll grab some basics on the way back.”

At the Starbucks, he gaped at four dollars for a coffee. “Is it made of gold? Good Lord.”

“Not my money.” Lukas shrugged and held out the credit card to pay for their food and drink. Steve glanced at him, disapproving of this unnecessary spending, but Lukas was immune.

Steve got his plain coffee- better than the slop they’d drunk in the war but hardly four dollars worth of better – and Lukas had something that looked more like dessert with whipped cream and chocolate topping. Modern decadence.

There was no place to sit down in the tiny shop so they sipped at their drinks while under a bank building’s awning and watched the people and the traffic. It felt… familiar, Steve decided. Sure it sounded different and the people were dressed differently, but the flow of it was the same. Businessmen still walked with quick steps, taxicabs still drove like maniacs, tourists still strolled, gaping at storefronts as if they’d never seen a shoe store before.

“You’re right. It’s not that different,” he said out of nowhere, but Lukas didn’t seem surprised, he just nodded.

“Humans – actually most people everywhere – are much the same,” Lukas answered.

“So there’s us and there’s your people, are there others?” Steve asked curiously.

Lukas gestured with his free hand, long fingers as if gathering them all to him. “Oh yes. So many kinds. It’s a big universe, Steven, with so much in it you cannot even imagine.”

“But you came here?” Steve asked, a bit dubiously.

“Well, at first I wanted to hide on a backwater planet where no one would look for me and then….” His gaze went distant. “There seemed no reason to go elsewhere. At least I knew this world, and my powers made living here easier than I might find elsewhere.”

Steve listened to this obvious attempt at diminishing the appeal, and asked with a smile, “So you would rather I think you’re _lazy_ , than admit you like it here?”

Lukas scoffed. “Like it? Absurd. I tolerate it.” He lifted his chin loftily, and Steve laughed.

“Fine, Your Highness. Let’s go buy groceries, if you can deign lower yourself that far.”

Lukas rolled his eyes but followed.

The bodega was an interesting study for Steve between things he recognized and things he absolutely had no idea what they were. Lukas helped with some of that, though he seemed mostly intrigued by the rows of beer bottles in the cold case. He ended up buying one with, he claimed, the best design, though Steve neither agreed with that assessment, nor figured the label proved anything about the content quality. But it was something Lukas seemed interested in, so Steve didn't object. 

Armed with their basic staples, they carried the sacks back to the apartment, and it was companionable putting it away. It felt more like a home with eggs and bread and butter in the kitchen.

“So, what else for today? Do you want to take the train to Brooklyn?” Lukas asked. “We could--”

 _Brooklyn_. Steve was abruptly angry, though he knew even as it happened that there was no real reason for it. "You know, you don't have to babysit me," Steve snapped. "I can get to Brooklyn on my own.”

Lukas raised his brows and frowned as if trying to figure out what Steve was upset about. "I do not doubt that. Nor am I babysitting you.”

“No?” Steve demanded. “You’re not here to keep watch on me? To make sure I don’t do anything stupid, or reveal myself to the public too soon? Did Fury put you up to watching me?”

Lukas remained calm against the accusation. “You saw what I think of Nick Fury’s manipulations of you. I am not here to do any of that. I am your friend, and I wish to do things with you because you’re back after I thought you were dead. Not control you, or ‘babysit’ you. If anything, I think we're meant to babysit each other."

His calm made Steve realize he'd been out of line. “Sorry.” Steve waved a hand in vague apology, letting out a breath. “I don’t know where that came from.” He blinked and frowned, realizing something didn’t make sense. “Wait, why would you need babysitting?"

Lukas stilled, as if surprised by the question, before turning with an easy smile. "Ah. I think you are under a mistaken impression that I was on Earth all the time you were asleep; I was not. I was sent down to Arendelle only a few weeks ago. So I have a small head-start on you, but I am hardly an expert on modern Midgard."

That put things in a different context. No wonder Lukas wasn’t especially knowledgeable about modern American life; it wasn’t because he was an alien and didn’t care, he literally hadn’t been there to see it. "Oh. I thought – of course. That makes more sense."

Lukas said. "I should have explained before."

"No, no, that's okay. Now I know. So what have you been doing these past few weeks? Hanging out in Arendelle until SHIELD figured out you were there?"

"More or less," Lukas agreed with a tight shrug. His fingers rubbed his opposite wrist, an anxious gesture that Steve recalled from when he'd fidgeted with the bandages on his wrists. "I spent some time on a farm, ah, what would the word be? _Acclimating_ , I suppose. So I might now help you do the same."

"Right. Sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Lukas smiled wryly. "You weren't entirely wrong, I am here to discourage you from foolishness."

"No," Steve disagreed with a shake of his head. "We're in this together. So, why did you come back? To Arendelle, Earth-- wow, that still seems unreal,” he laughed at himself.

Lukas wandered away to pick up the papers on the table and tap them to straighten them. "I did something impetuous and unwise at home, and it got me sent away."

Steve noticed the lack of details and frowned. "You mean exile?"

“At first. I could return now, but I choose not to," Lukas answered. "I'm here to stay."

"Well, I'm selfishly glad about that. Your presence makes this easier." He gripped Lukas' shoulder in thanks, surprised when Lukas turned sharply to dislodge the grip. But thinking about it, Lukas had never been one for the cheerful embrace back in the war, as Steve recalled. He’d figured Lukas didn’t like casual touch because of his captivity then, but perhaps he was just that way.

Steve didn’t mention the avoidance. “Although I guess even if you hadn’t come here, I’d have Bucky and Peggy, too. Do you know about the rest of the Howling Commandos?” Lukas shook his head that he didn’t. “You didn’t want to know they were dead?” Steve asked.

“I thought for certain they were. My experience with humans suggested they rarely reach ninety, so it was a shock to learn about Carter and Barnes. Or Carter-Barnes, I suppose I should say. That is how she signed her letter--”

Steve almost didn’t notice, but the meaning dawned on him and his head whipped around in a movie-style double take. “Carter-Barnes?” he repeated. Lukas had to be mis-stating that; it couldn’t possibly mean what he thought it meant. “They got _married_?”

He knew Lukas had done it on purpose, when Lukas laughed. “To each other!”

“Oh.” Steve could only stare, trying to figure out what he felt about that. “Oh. Well. Isn't that something?" Steve said. It was strange how his heart could sink at the thought that Peggy had married someone else, even though of course, it had been decades and he would never want her to pine away for him. Yet his heart also felt too big with joy, that they had found each other. He chuckled, thinking back to that time in the pub when Bucky had asked her to dance and she'd refused him. Apparently she'd said yes in the end, and found her right partner, after all.

"I know they had two children, as well; Lucy for me, and Steven for you. Lucy is a professor of Norse linguistics," Lukas said with more somber, yet evident pride. "I have not met her yet, but I know she has consulted for SHIELD."

"Wow. That's great. Kids. And a professor already." Though when he did the math, he realized she was probably in her forties. Bucky and Peggy could have grand-kids. They probably did.

Because they were in their nineties. It finally sunk in that they were old. Like he was supposed to be, but wasn't. He sank down to the couch, hands clasped between his knees, and looked up at Lukas. "How do you deal with this?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. "They're old, and I'm not. They've lived, and I've been stuck out of time."

Lukas grimaced. It was not a smile. "I don't deal with it. Not well, at least. Why do you think I have not pressed to go to them? The concept of children growing up and becoming adults, I manage to grasp, but aging and death? Those are difficult to see in my mortal friends and family. That is why I tried not to be as social with the Howling Commandos, to keep myself somewhat apart so it would pain me less when death inevitably struck. It was not very successful. Natasha advises caring more broadly, so the loss of one is not so deep. But I wonder if that will not make the loss unendurable." Lukas fell silent, eyes weighted with years and loss that Steve couldn't imagine, far beyond his own. Lukas wasn't a 'real' god or demon, but he was no mortal human either, not with those eyes.

He blinked himself back to the present, glancing at Steve with an attempted smile. "So, difficult as it is for you, I must admit to some gladness that you are also less touched by time. I feel less... alone."

Steve turned that one over in his mind, and thought it was true for him, too. What would this be like without Lukas? Without a friend from before who was the same, who shared some of the same experiences? Without someone who missed the same people and was familiar with the same things that Steve was, plus Lukas had even more years of dealing with staying youthful while the rest of the people he knew aged. Even if he claimed not to handle it well, at least he understood the problem. And if he was right, and Steve was doomed to outlive more friends, then at least Lukas would be there for that, too.

Steve stood up again, so he could look Lukas in the eye. "And I'm glad you're here, too," he declared, meaning to be clear so Lukas would understand every word without doubt. "I'm glad I'm not alone in this either."

Lukas' smile was more genuine then, widening out with a flash of happiness that Steve was glad to see. Humor from him wasn't rare, but happiness seemed to be, and Steve liked to see it.

"We should go see them,” Steve suggested. “Not just because they’re our friends.” At Lukas’ inquisitive brow lift, Steve added, “But because we’ve got to get used to it sometime, right? Better sooner than later.”

Lukas stilled and then quirked his mouth in a bit of a wry smile. “You are wiser than I, Steven.”

“Says the man who told me two minutes after I woke up that I’d slept decades,” Steve teased but then got serious. “But I don’t want is to miss anything else of their lives. Not while they still have them. I missed a dance, Lukas. I missed… so much. But I don’t think I could stand to miss everything.”

Lukas nodded. “As one who believed I had missed everything, that is best. For certain.”

Steve frowned, “So why didn’t you come back sooner? You knew they were alive.”

“I knew,” Lukas admitted. “But I also knew they would blame me for your loss. And I thought it best the Ice Demon die there.” His eyes shifted away and his lips shaped the words, barely with any voice, “With you.”

Steve reached for him before remembering the touch would be unwelcome and took back his hand, shaking his head in denial. “Lukas, the only one who blames you, is you. I said it before, and I’ll keep saying it til you believe me- it’s not your fault.”

Lukas’ face twisted in denial. “It is!” he insisted. “If I hadn’t fled, if I hadn’t been too much a _coward_ to face them, you might have been saved sooner. You might have woken up in time to dance with Margaret, and those would be your children, not James’. So think of _that_ , before you think to absolve me of things that are absolutely my doing.”

He rushed out, letting the door slamming behind him, and Steve watched him go, mouth open but unable to call after him. His voice seemed stopped in his chest, as the pieces fell into place. Because it was probably true; Lukas could have given them a better location where the plane went down. Maybe Steve could’ve been found earlier. But Lukas had left, not telling anyone where the plane had crashed, so Steve had slept decades.

Steve had missed his _life_. He’d missed the life he should have had, because Lukas had vanished, instead of staying. It was his fault.

The fury rose up inside him, bubbling up with the unfairness of it all, that he’d lost his whole life and everything good in it, he’d slept away the end of the war and all that followed. He’d missed his chance with Peggy. He’d missed his chance for a normal life. He’d missed everything, because Lukas had _run away_.

He shoved the table, slamming it into the wall so hard the plaster cracked. He watched little bits of paint flake off and fall, his chest heaving and fists clenched.

 _Because he thought you were dead, idiot_ , a small voice chided in the back of his mind. It sounded like Bucky. _He didn’t mean to leave you, you know that. You know Schmidt tortured him, and you remember he had a head wound. He threw up on the deck, he could barely stand, and for damn sure he wasn’t thinking clearly. Did you think he would make it after he fell out of the plane? No. You hoped so, since you knew he’d done amazing things, but you thought it was more likely he was dead. So don’t blame him for thinking the same about you_.

The reminder from his conscience made the anger settle back down. He was still angry at the sheer unfairness of what had happened to him, but it was also unfair to blame Lukas for it. There were things Lukas could’ve done differently, but that was true of Steve, too. He could’ve kept a tighter hold on Lukas and kept him from diving after the cube. He could’ve taken down Schmidt faster and harder, and kept him from the cube in the first place.

But Lukas was blaming himself, and since the last time he’d done that, he’d vanished from Earth for sixty years, Steve decided to go after him, and reassure him that he was forgiven.

Outside the apartment, on the landing, he hesitated, wondering if Lukas had gone up to the roof or down to leave. He called down to the old man slowly mopping the floor, “Hey! Have you seen my roommate?” The old man turned and peered upward at Steve, through his glasses, then pulled out an ear piece. Steve moved down a few steps. “Did you see which way my roommate went? Guy with the black hair?”

“Your boyfriend went out,” the man pointed with his broom handle toward the main door.

“He’s not my--” Steve started, but the janitor put the thing back in his ear and kept on mopping, so Steve gave up objecting. He took the stairs two at a time, waved his thanks to the janitor as he passed, and headed into the street. No slim silhouette with black hair was visible in either direction, but there was a redhead heading his way from the subway entrance.

“Morning, Natasha,” he greeted her as she came up. “Did you see Lukas? We had kind of a fight and he stormed off.”

She shook her head. “No, I didn’t see him. But let me see if I can find him.” She pulled out her phone, and he watched as she touched the screen rapidly, before putting it away. “In Central Park.”

Steve blinked amazed he’d traveled all that way in such little time. That was faster than Steve could run there. But then he frowned. “How do you know that? Did you put a tracking device on him?”

“No!” she objected, incensed. “Not that. He’d never forgive me for doing that without his knowledge. But, he does have a phone, and he knows it can be tracked.”

Steve thought of his locator beacon and nodded understanding. It was something else that they made much compact in the future, but the same concept.

“What did you argue about?” she asked.

“Not really an argument. We were talking about going to see Bucky and Peggy, and he was upset he’d left after the crash, instead of telling them where it was. Which I guess is true, but I don’t want him to think it’s his fault. But he left before I could say it.”

She hesitated, eyes flickering with indecision, and Steve wondered if there was a secret being kept from him. She answered, “He told me after you died, he didn’t think about Barnes or Carter, at all. Even when he was back here, he didn’t seek them out or ask if they were alive until the director gave him a letter Carter had left for him. The letter forgave him for not coming back, but he doesn’t believe it. And he won’t until he hears it from them. He doesn’t have a lot of,” she chose the words carefully, “emotional resilience.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Because of his captivity and torture.” Although Lukas had seemed mostly okay after he’d been rescued, Steve knew that an experience like that wouldn’t just go away, not in anyone with human reactions to things, which Lukas certainly had, despite his age.

“Among other things,” Natasha agreed.

Including exile, Steve knew, and resolved to find out more about that. He was definitely getting the picture that Lukas needed a friend as much as Steve did. Certainly last night’s thwarted mugging had suggested he needed someone to pull him back when he strayed into dark violence. “I’ll go after him.”

Her hand closed around his forearm, forestalling movement. “No, I’ll go. And when we’re back, we’ll head to DC to visit your friends. I think you both need to see them.”

Steve wanted to see them, but he smiled wryly as Natasha. "No musical?" 

"I don't think Broadway's going anywhere," she retorted. "Wait for us. I'll bring him back." She headed down the walk, and Steve watched her go, before returning to the apartment to wait.

* * *

tbc...

 


	5. Chapter 5

Natasha checked her map again, to find that Lukas was still in the same place, by the obelisk. She’d texted him that she was on her way to him, and though there’d been no direct response, he’d seen it and so he was waiting for her.

She entered the little plaza beneath the obelisk. Lukas was there, standing in the shade between the fence and the obelisk’s base. He was wearing black, the jeans and T-shirt simple but fitted to his slim form perfectly. It looked good, but she remembered that beautiful emerald green silk shirt he’d had in Arendelle and resolved to find him something like that again.

She approached and called out, “I see you managed to find the only thing in New York older than you are.”

He glanced at her, with a smile forming to see her coming near. “I thought at first it was one of those fake follies the aristocracy made so much of back in the day,” he said, “but it’s genuine.” He tilted his head at it, looking up at the worn hieroglyphs. “I remember it from Egypt. It’s good to know some things endure, if somewhat faded and not in the same places they once were.”

She knew that was directed at himself, but left it alone to try and poke at what had happened with Rogers. She curled her hands around the railing between them. “Steve tells me you’re still blaming yourself for not coming back sooner, after the plane went down.”

He tensed, and kept his gaze upward. “I could have.”

“Could you?” she countered softly. “Truly? You told me you didn’t even think about Carter or Barnes. And that’s not because you were selfish or cruel, Lukas; it’s because you were too upset to think clearly.” She hesitated, unsure if she should mention it, but deciding to forge ahead, “And because, I think, you were afraid if you thought about them, you would also remember what else happened. You tried to leave all of it behind. That’s perfectly understandable, and there is no way Barnes wouldn’t understand that. You should read his memoir. There’s nothing but admiration for you.” She reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder lightly, and murmured, “You don’t have to be afraid they’ll be angry.”

He dropped his chin and didn’t speak at first, letting her words rush through him, before he huffed a laugh. “So easily you see to the heart of me, Natalya, and disarm what I _know_ are foolish fears, but they prey on me nonetheless.”

She rubbed a hand across his shoulder and down his arm. “That’s what friends do. And Steve wants to be there for you.”

Lukas gave a sharp shake of his head in denial. “He has enough to manage, without dealing with me.”

She pulled at him, to get him to turn and look at her. “You’re the one thing right now he hasn’t lost. You’re his connection. So let him be connected to you. It’ll make you both stronger.”

He grimaced, not quite a smile, and seemed resistant but didn’t argue. “Very well. But do not tell him about Sokovia. That's too much for him to carry.”

She opened her mouth to object that he was ignoring everything she’d just said, but his face was stone and she knew she wasn’t going to get very far. One careful breath later, she had her control back and reminded him, “He’ll find out, Lukas. It’s not a secret.”

“Now it is,” he declared, folding his arms. “Tell SHIELD they are not to tell him. I will tell him when I want, not before.” Deciding that was settled, he announced, “We should go back before Steven gets himself in trouble.”

Natasha doubted that Rogers on his own was any more likely to get in trouble than Lukas was, but she nodded.

Making their way back to the apartment, they found Rogers waiting inside. “You feeling better?” he asked Lukas.

Lukas nodded, looking down and away. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I should not have run out.”

“You were upset; it’s okay. And just so you know, those years weren’t lost because of you.” Lukas snapped up his head to object, but Steve lifted  
a hand to stop him. “Listen. We both made a choice when we jumped on Schmidt’s flying wing, knowing we might not make it out of there. We knew it had to be stopped, and I would do it all again. And without you, Bucky’d be dead. If I have to choose, I’d rather have you and Bucky and Peggy _alive_ in the future, than me waking up alone in 1946.”

Lukas still looked resistant and stubborn, so Steve added, “You didn’t take her away from me, okay? Fate did. Or God. Or Schmidt. But not you. You didn’t think you had anything to come back for, I get that. That doesn’t make you a monster, it makes you,” he paused, realizing what he was about to say before chuckling and saying it anyway, “it makes you human.”

Lukas didn’t answer immediately, but nodded slow acceptance of the words.

“Good,” Steve said. “Now let’s visit our friends.”

* * *

The three of them found their seats on the train, and Steve was amused when Lukas stretched out his legs with a relieved sigh. “Ah yes, so much more civilized than primitive flying deathtraps.”

“Trains aren’t _more_ primitive than airplanes?” Natasha asked, teasing.

“It could be faster,” he allowed, waving a hand toward the window and the view outside slowly shifting. “But those airplanes are nightmares.”

Natasha looked across to Steve and explained, “He’s afraid of flying.”

“I am not!” Lukas protested, sounding very offended. “I’m fine with flying. I dislike my aircraft exploding and falling from the sky. Which you lot seem to court with every single flight.”

“Don’t listen to him,” she advised Steve. “Flying is very safe, these days. He just doesn’t like jet engines.”

“It’s _on fire_ , Natalya. You are still using the steam engine, and you think it is so modern,” he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

Steve had to smile at their banter and wanted to get a little of his own back. “I remember. You almost threw up on that flight back to London.”

“That was my first ride on a flying death lottery. And the stench was foul.”

“That it was,” Steve agreed, nodding. “The later ones we flew weren’t so bad, but that one stank.”

They played cards for part of the trip, though Lukas grew bored quickly and started playing tricks. Real magic or however Lukas was doing it, Steve knew it was impossible for him to have six aces from one deck. But the pranking phase didn’t last long either, as Lukas stood up to walk the length of the train. He didn’t come back right away, but when Steve asked if they should go find him, Natasha shrugged.

“He wouldn’t leave the train without telling us,” she said.

Steve raised his eyebrows and looked deliberately at the landscape they were speeding past, thinking there was no way Lukas could leave the train, but she just smiled as if she knew a secret. He thought of Lukas throwing himself off the train in Austria, and conceded that he could jump off wherever he wanted, no matter how fast it was going.

“I’ll go see how he’s doing.” Steve knew Lukas hadn’t passed them again to the front, so went to the back. But instead of finding him brooding at the window and watching the scenery, he found Lukas at the bar, doing sleight of hand tricks for a small appreciative audience, including a couple of children who were oohing-and-aahhing when coins disappeared and reappeared beneath cups. When he tipped the cup and a sparrow flew out, even Steve gaped at that.

Lukas grinned at the gasps and clapping, and bowed with a flourish, before joining Steve inside the door. “Missed me?” he teased.

“Wanted to make sure you were okay. And then to find you doing--” Steve waved a hand at the gathering. “What _were_ you doing? Magic tricks?”

“I’m going to be the magician for a small child’s birthday party,” Lukas told him. “I needed to practice.” He brushed past Steve, smirking, and Steve had to laugh at how ridiculous the story was. A birthday party, really? That was the best story he could come up with?

But in their seats again, Steve grew pensive thinking about how comfortable this train was, so unlike Zola’s train when he’d watched Bucky and Lukas plummet to what should have been their deaths. It felt like that had happened only a little while ago to him, and yet for everyone else it had been decades. Even Lukas, who hadn’t aged, had experienced those years. Time had passed for him, but not for Steve.

Yet when he looked out the window, it didn’t seem that much different from taking the train during his war bond tour. Most of that had been by small prop plane, but quite a lot by train as well, and looking out the window wasn’t that different.

Especially as they headed into DC, there was forest and farms and old stately homes that looked as if no time had passed at all.

At Union Station they switched to the subway that reminded him of New York’s and headed out to Bethesda. There was a car waiting for them there and Natasha drove them the rest of the way, to the elder care facility where Peggy lived. Steve was anxious about seeing her and Bucky again. It seemed a miracle they were both alive, and a curse that he’d missed all their years. Unfairness curdled inside, mixed with joy that he hadn’t missed everything, making his reactions unsteady and jolted with every thought.

Meanwhile Lukas seemed just plain anxious, sitting in the back, staring blindly out the window, and Steve would not have been surprised to hear him say he was staying in the car when they finally stopped.

The place was pretty with lush landscaping. There was a tree-lined drive up to a low rise building that looked more like a plantation mansion with front columns and a portico, but the wide ramp with the railings somewhat spoiled the look.

Inside, the front hall had a desk for them to sign in. They’d barely scrawled their name when Steve heard a familiar voice drawl, “Damn, that’s just not fair.”

Steve spun around and Bucky was there. At first the voice fooled him, because it sounded exactly the same, so he didn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing. But as if the mists of time cleared, he saw Bucky.

Bucky Barnes was old. Not ancient, though. He didn't look ninety. He had a full head of hair, all of it silvery-grey, and his face was creased, especially at the corners of his eyes, but he stood with that same upright posture he always had, though thinner than Steve recalled. His arm was mostly hidden by his long sleeve sweater, but his hand looked flesh, the fingers curling naturally against his legs.

“Buck?” Steve said, voice failing him. “Oh God, you’re alive.”

“That’s my line, you punk,” Bucky said, his voice was hoarse too, and then his arms went around Steve and held him tight. “Thank God, you’re alive.”

Modern medicine hadn't given him a flesh hand back, after all. Steve could feel the difference in the strength of his hand. It must be a false one made very realistically.

Bucky pushed back and looked at Lukas, who was hanging back. “And you, Lukas, you don’t call, you don’t write--” he chided, and when Lukas opened his mouth, expression crestfallen by the teasing, Bucky shook his head. “I knew you’d be back someday, thank God you made it today.” Then, ignoring Lukas’ stiffness, Bucky hugged him, too.

He looked at Natasha curiously and Steve made the hasty introductions.

“Oh, you’re her,” Bucky said.

“Her?” she repeated.

“I retired, but it’s not like I don’t get all the SHIELD gossip. Plus, you probably know I had my own experience with your former, uh, school, so I know how hard that must’ve been for you to cross over. Welcome, Natasha.”

She shook his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

He winced. “Oh, don’t be like that. 'Sir'. I work for a living. Unlike some people.” He glanced pointedly at both Steve and Lukas. “Come this way, into the lounge, and we can talk there.”

The lounge area had a fireplace and books on the shelves that looked as old as the residents, though luckily the room was empty. There was also a television displaying a talk show, but Bucky muted it with the wand. He faced Steve, without sitting down yet.

“I really am glad you’re alive. It’s a miracle,” he said. “We thought you were dead.”

“I know, Bucky. It’s okay.”

"You don't mind?" Bucky asked. "Me and Peggy?

At first Steve looked confused, no idea what Bucky was asking, but understanding dawned. "You and Peggy? Mind? Hell no. No," he added more insistently. "I'm glad. No, really. God, Buck, did you think I'd want both of you to waste your lives grieving over someone gone?"

"Well, no, that's why we did it. Not right away," he added hastily. "We did look for you. But eventually, we... stopped." His gaze took on a regretful cast, and he swallowed hard, looking away. "We should've kept looking."

"No," Steve disagreed and gripped Bucky's shoulder. "You did the right thing."

"But we could've--"

"Bucky, you had to _live_. I understand that. And I'm not mad that you moved on with your life. I'm glad you had each other, and you were happy. I'm just mad I missed it."

“I’m mad you missed it, too. Whatever you need, Steve, anything, you tell me. You’re family,” Bucky said and hugged Steve again.

Steve hung onto him, eyes tightly shut against the burning, fists against Bucky’s back. He was old, but he was still Bucky.

Steve let him go, wiping a hand across his eyes.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Okay. Let’s go see Peggy, she should be awake.” Before they went back in the hall, he cautioned them, “I want you to understand that her memory’s not… what it once was. She may not recognize you, or she may not remember you’ve already come in the room. So, just, be prepared.”

“Oh, no, Buck, I’m so sorry. It must be hard on you,” Steve murmured.

“On me? Well, it’s harder on the kids,” he answered. “Me she’ll recognize usually, even if she forgets what year it is.”

Steve thought that sounded heartbreaking, and his situation suddenly didn’t seem so terrible. Missing time sucked, but at least his mind was intact.

He thought he was prepared for Peggy to look her age. He thought he was prepared to hear her say his name.

He wasn’t.

* * *

 

tbc...

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

Lukas kept a smile the whole visit, but Natasha could see the tension keeping his movements stiff. When they left Carter to sleep, and Barnes and Rogers were talking, Lukas walked straight out of the facility, ignoring the request to sign out. Natasha gave him a few minutes to chill, but when he didn’t come back in, she went looking for him, wondering if he’d left.

He hadn’t. He was standing at the end of the driveway, beneath the old oak tree losing its leaves beside the open gate, but he hadn’t crossed to the sidewalk outside the property. His arms were folded, as he stared across the road at the office park mostly hidden by other trees.

“Lukas?” Natasha approached him, not surprised to find him upset by seeing his friends aged and close to death. “You okay?”

His brow knitted and he shook his head. “I should have come back,” he murmured. “It is distressing to see someone who once was so sharp, reduced and frail.”

“At least you get to see her again. And she recognized you.”

Lukas shook his head. “Not for long.”

That had been true. Natasha had hung back out of sight to be less added confusion, but she had heard Carter greet him by name, and ten minutes later call for her brother because she didn’t know the stranger by her bed. Barnes had gotten her calmed down, and after that, she’d greeted Steve as if he’d walked in the room for the first time. It had been sobering to Natasha, who knew the stories about Peggy Carter, and obviously distressing to both Steve and Lukas.

“There’s nothing you can do, just try to--” Natasha started, but then his head jerked up and she fell quiet.

“There is something I can do.” He whirled and started back toward the building, Natasha springing after him.

“What? What are you going to do?” she asked. “Can you heal her?” She thought of the stories she’d read about the Norse gods and though she knew now that most of them had nothing to do with the reality of Asgard, she added, “Or give her immortality?”

“The first, perhaps. Immortality? How do you-” He glanced at her puzzled. “Oh, you mean the apple story? No. We are long-lived by race, not by magical apples.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “It is a pity though. Magical apples would solve so many problems.”

She shook her head at his back, as he didn’t stop at the counter on his way in, either, and found the lounge where Barnes and Steve were talking.

Lukas waited until she’d entered, and he shut the door, getting the two men’s attention. “Lukas?” Barnes asked.

“I have… a proposition,” Lukas said. He brought his hands together before him, rubbing a thumb on his opposite wrist before saying, “There is a possibility I could help Margaret. Her mind,” he corrected hastily, “Her body too if there is a specific ailment, though I cannot reverse aging, but I speak mostly of her mental confusion.”

Barnes looked at him and then rose to his feet, closing the space between him and Lukas, to look into his eyes. “You can help her?” His hand seized Lukas’ forearm. “You really think you can?”

“As I helped you,” Lukas said, glancing at Barnes’ prosthesis arm. It was nearly indistinguishable from a flesh one, and Natasha hadn’t known the skin on it was false until she’d noticed the hairless sheen to it. SHIELD or Stark had done an amazing job with it.

“Wait,” Steve said, standing at that. “You helped him? I thought it was a blood transfusion. Is that what you want to do with Peggy?”

Lukas and Barnes’ eyes met and Lukas inhaled, with a brief grimace, before admitting, “No. My healing of James was never my blood, Steven. I healed his injuries with my powers.”

“You knew this,” Steve said, blue eyes accusing his older friend.

“He asked me to keep it secret. So I did.”

“It was a better explanation for his abilities,” Lukas said. “We thought it might save him from anyone believing he could be the key to a version of the serum.”

His face was a mask and his tone level, but Natasha inwardly winced, realizing that this lie might have saved Barnes from anyone trying to get the serum from him, but having healing blood in the story had contributed to why he’d been taken prisoner and tested again. Strucker had wanted something that had never existed.

“But that is the past,” Lukas said, flicking his fingers. “What it means is that I believe I can help Margaret. It is not without risk,” he added. “If she is too weak, I cannot attempt it, as healing always takes some from the patient. But if you and she would allow it, I could at least examine her and see if I could improve her condition.”

Barnes looked at him for a long moment, seeming stunned by the offer or turning it over it in his mind. Since he didn’t speak, Lukas added, “I understand if you would rather not take the risk. It has been a long time since we knew each other and I know I damaged your trust--”

Barnes gripped his arm tightly, cutting off his words. “I trust you,” he declared. “Good grief, how could I not, Lukas? No, I’m just… To think I could get Peg back.” His voice wobbled and he had to bite his lip. “It’s been hard,” he confessed. “Sometimes she’s back, she’s there, but then she doesn’t know who I am. Or she thinks the kids are small, and so they’re strangers.... I’d give anything for them to get their mom and grams back.”

“Well, you don’t have to give me anything,” Lukas said, trying to smile, but his touch was light on Barnes’ arm. “I’ll see what I can do, James. Try to make up for my absence, at least a little.”

Rogers looked skeptical of what he was going to do and still a bit annoyed that he hadn’t known the truth of Barnes’ rescue, but didn’t try to interfere. Natasha watched, curious what Lukas was going to do.

At the door, outside her room, Lukas instructed, “Steven, keep the door closed. I don’t want any well-meaning employee to interrupt. The rest of you need to stay out of her view. And do not interfere, unless it looks as if one or both of us is dying. That will mean something has gone very awry.”

Barnes took a step forward, “Lukas--”

“Lighten up, James, it was a jest. It may not work, but no harm will come to her, I swear.” Lukas opened the door and strode in again, heading straight for her bedside, opposite the door, so he could draw her attention away from the others following behind him.

Carter stirred and opened her eyes. She smiled weakly, but happily. “Lukas! Mister Onsdag, you’ve come back! It’s been so long.”

Lukas’ smile didn’t shift a hair, as he greeted her as if for the first time, “Margaret. You look well.”

She coughed a laugh, and pawed weakly in his direction. “Such a liar.”

He caught her hand in his. “Nay, you do. Old, but we all grow older or we die, Margaret, and I am pleased you chose growing older.”

“But you’re the same,” she said and frowned, growing confused. “Is it not so long then? I thought--”

“Sweet, strong Margaret,” he murmured, raising her thin fingers to his lips. “You know I am a different breed, a wolf among hounds. And I am here to help you, if you will let me.”

“Help me? How?”

“Your memories. Perception. To help you recognize your children as they are today, grown.”

Her voice, so small, so helpless, made Natasha’s heart, once so hardened, crack, as Carter said, “I forget, sometimes. I know I do.”

Then, so quietly, in a gentle voice she had never heard him use before, not even to Lila, he asked, “Margaret, will you let me try to help you? Will you trust me to help you?” She nodded slightly, but it was enough. He smiled a bit. “Then I shall.” He settled on the bed, cross-legged, and lifted her head and the pillow beneath it into his lap. He set his fingers lightly on both sides of her head, smoothing the white hair, and said, “Think of your oldest memory from when you were a child. As far back as you can. A favorite doll. Your brother. Playing in the garden, or your nursery. Do you remember?”

“We played pirates,” she said, voice hoarse but her eyes were clear, fixing on the past.

“Pirates,” he murmured and his smile widened in soft amusement. “Remind me to tell you my pirate adventure. Think back to when you defended your ship against pirates, Captain Peggy.” The sound of her usual first name sharpened Natasha’s attention, as both Lukas and Carter closed their eyes. “We shall make that the beginning of the path, and join all the other paths back to it where they are broken. She’s stronger than she looks but this may take awhile,” he said, in exactly the same even tone, but to the observers not to her. “It is very fine work, and I have not done its like in some time, so I request your patience.”

For a minute, he sat there, Carter’s head in his lap, fingers at her temples, and didn’t seem to breathe.

Beside her Barnes rubbed at his upper chest and shoulder area with his right hand and his brow knotted curiously, as he stopped rubbing and looked at his flesh hand as his fingers curled. He glanced at the bed. “He’s doing something,” he murmured. “I feel it. That’s weird. Haven’t felt something like that in a long time.”

“Is it… bad?” Steve asked. “Should we stop it?”

Barnes grabbed his arm when Steve shifted his weight to walk. “No. Let him try.”

A sound in the hallway outside distracted Natasha and she looked out the small window in the door. “Nurse incoming,” she warned.

“On it,” Barnes said and hurried out to block the nurse from interrupting.

Natasha turned back when it seemed Barnes had the problem in hand. What Lukas doing looked odd, but not dangerous or harmful; the danger came from knowing that Lukas was, somehow, doing something in her head. That knowledge was making Steve tense, and Natasha slid closer to him so she was in position to stop him if he tried to interfere.

But as it continued, she began to be uneasy herself. Lukas’ brow furrowed and his jaw clenched, as whatever he was doing seemed to get more difficult. Carter had to sharply inhale, as if she’d been holding her breath, and started to pant lightly, while Lukas didn’t seem to be breathing at all. His fingers trembled on her skin.

Though bright in the room, it became apparent that the faint sheen across his hands and her face was not because of the sunlight slipping through the window blinds, but a glow he was causing.

Natasha watched, wondering when she should intervene or let Rogers intervene. That ‘jest’ of Lukas’, that one or both of them could die, made her think maybe it wasn’t such a jest at all, that there was a not-zero chance that could happen. Director Carter was an admired hero of SHIELD, and that loss would be tragic, but it would be even worse for those left behind: her family, Steve, and definitely for Lukas, who would probably never forgive himself if she died doing this.

Since ‘never’ was going to be a very long time for someone who could potentially live thousands of years more, she stepped forward when Carter gasped again and moaned in distress.

But Lukas murmured under his breath, and she heard distinctly ‘yes’ and that sounded encouraging, so she stopped, tense but willing to wait.

Carter inhaled sharply and Lukas’ eyes flew open, looking alarmed although he saw nothing before him. He pulled his hands away from her head, and his shoulders slumped, his eyes closed again, and he panted lightly for breath.

All was silent, until Lukas stirred and opened his eyes again. He looked weary, but formed a smile, glancing at Natasha and Steve. “It worked. Fetch James.”

Natasha opened the door to call him in, as Lukas gently removed himself from the bed. As he stood, he gripped the decorative knob of the corner of the headboard to steady himself, when he wavered and his legs nearly folded beneath him. He stayed there, taking some long breaths with his eyes closed.

Barnes re-entered and went straight to the other side of her bed. Her eyes found his, and she exclaimed, “James. James! I remember! I remember all of it, I remember everything.” Her eyes filled with tears, as he sank down to the floor to gaze into her face, taking her hand.

“Peg, Peggy, oh Peggy.” He bent his head over her hand, overcome. She gazed at him in such open joy, it made Natasha smile, too, and then her eyes flicked over and found Rogers.

“Steve. Oh, Steve, come here,” She lifted her other hand to beckon him closer, as well. “I’m so glad you’re back. And you look the same, it’s a miracle.”

Lukas watched them with a half-smile, happy for them clearly, but seeming a bit apart. He turned to leave them to their happy reunion, closing the distance to Natasha and no doubt intending to slip from the room.

But his absence was noticed. “Lukas,” Carter called him back and he returned to the bedside. When she reached out for him, he took her hand and she tugged him closer. “Lukas. I am so sorry,” she said. “I saw … We should’ve found the rest of them. We didn’t look hard enough--”

“No, Margaret,” he reassured her. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Especially when I abandoned you.”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, shaking her head, and pulled his hand up to kiss it. “You did nothing of the sort. I knew you’d be back when you were ready. But I wish it had been a happy return.”

“It is,” he told her. “I’m happy to see you again.”

Their eyes held for a moment, Carter’s aware and sharp, a younger woman, but a wiser woman, too. “I’m happy to see you, too.” She glanced at the hand she was holding and looked to Barnes. “James. Take this boy someplace to sit down and give him food. He won’t tell you but he’s exhausted.”

Lukas looked a bit askance at being called ‘boy’ but a pleased smile hovered nonetheless, as he admitted, “I could eat something.”

“Will do, and I’ll be back afterward,” Barnes promised.

“Take your time. I’m going to rest.” She let go of Lukas’ hand and flicked her fingers to send them all away.

In the corridor Barnes grabbed Lukas around the shoulders into a sudden hug. “Oh my God, you did it. You did it, thank you. You… That’s Peggy in there again. All of her. You brought her back.”

Awkwardly, Lukas patted Barnes on the back. “You are very welcome.”

Barnes pulled back and frowned at him. “What was she talking about though? Apologizing for what?”

Lukas couldn’t hold his eyes, casting his gaze away. “Touching her mind meant she also touched mine. But she thought what happened long ago was recent. It was nothing. Though I am hungry. Is there a place here to get real food? Because those vending machines are an abomination….”

As Barnes led him down the corridor, Natasha and Steve followed more slowly. Natasha wasn’t surprised he was keeping up the lie he’d told Steve, that nothing had happened after he’d arrived, but she wished he’d be honest about it, even if he didn’t want to talk about it. It wasn’t going to stay a secret. But it was his choice to make, and she went along with it.

Next to her, Steve heaved a sigh, and since it was the kind of sound people made for attention, she glanced at him. “You okay, Rogers?”

“Yeah, I just-- I don’t know. I’m glad I get to see them, but they’re so different. Lukas looks the same, but he’s doing things I never saw before. Makes me realize everything’s changed.”

She let that digest and offered, “Just remember they’re changed for Lukas, too, and he deals with aging and death a lot worse than we do.”

“You’d think he’d be used to it by now.”

She shook her head. “Not when he avoids it as much as possible. He told me he used to move on when people noticed he wasn’t aging; that means he moved on before they could age, too.”

Expression more thoughtful, Steve looked in Lukas’ direction. “Didn’t think of that.”

But then, conversation ahead caught her attention and she quickened her step to hear what Lukas and Barnes were talking about.

“You met Queen Brigitte?” Lukas sounded pleased. “I hope she was well.”

“She was,” Barnes said. “And I spent a while there, helping out.” he held out his prosthesis hand and clenched the fist. “Hauled a lot of bricks.”

Lukas glanced at him. “Thank you, James. I appreciate that you went there, for me.”

“Hey, least I could do.” Barnes shrugged and pushed open the door to the facility’s cafe. “Take a seat, I’ll get the food. What do you want?”

Lukas glanced at the menu written on the chalkboard on the easel. “A chicken and cheese sandwich should suffice.”

Steve went up with Barnes, and Natasha who wasn’t interested in early dinner, waved her hand to pass and followed Lukas at the table with the view out to the courtyard. He sat heavily, nearly collapsing into the chair, and looked outside, gaze somewhere far more distant.

“Hey,” she murmured, sliding into the seat next to him. “You doing all right?”

He glanced at her. “It was draining but food will help.”

Which didn’t answer the question, but since the answer was probably ‘not really’ she didn’t pursue it. She watched Barnes and Rogers quibble about who was going to pay at the register, though they settled on Rogers carrying everything and Barnes paying for it.

Steve set the tray down and slid it to in front of Lukas; the tray held the requested sandwich, green salad, potato chips, pudding, and a bottle of water. “Go ahead,” he invited.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Lukas asked. “This feels awkward and rude.”

Barnes scoffed. “Did we just create a miracle? No. Dig in. I’ll eat with Peggy later.” He smiled. “It’ll be good to eat together again, like it used to be. When she brought me into SHIELD – this was in the early days, just after it spun off from the SSR- “ he explained in an aside to Steve, “we’d have lunch together. ” His smile turned wry. “Your ghost was sitting with us for a couple of years before I got up the courage to ask her on a proper date.”

“Years? _You_? Damn, now I know you were lost without me,” Steve teased and bumped shoulders. “So tell me about my namesake. Is he in SHIELD?”

Barnes laughed. “Hell no. They both went as far from SHIELD or the military as they could. Funny when Howard’s kid followed in his footsteps, but no, Stevie’s a pediatrician, and Lucy’s a professor at Georgetown.”

“Wow, smart. They must get it from Peggy,” Steve teased.

But Barnes wasn’t offended. “Oh, they did. Definitely.”

As Natasha listened, she let her gaze roam, reflexively checking her position and the new people entering the lunchroom. There was no danger of course, but there was a nurse in scrubs trying to take a photo with her cellphone.

Natasha turned and lifted her shoulder, to obscure her own face and Lukas’. There was nothing she could do to obscure Steve’s though. The nurse worked here, so she knew who Bucky Barnes was, and if she was taking a picture, she’d recognized Lukas or Steve, too.

“I texted Lucy to drive over as soon as she can, so make sure you stick around,” Barnes said and pushed back his chair, full of impatience. “I’m going to check on Peg.”

“I’ll go with you?” Steve said, half in question, but Barnes waved him up. When they left, the nurse took another picture.

Captain America’s return was about to go viral, Natasha thought with a sigh. She could go take the phone, but that wasn’t going to stop her from posting about it, nor anyone else.

Lukas scraped the sides of the plastic cup to get the last of the chocolate pudding. For someone who had claimed to want only a sandwich, he’d devoured everything on the tray. “I find myself eager to meet--” Lukas interrupted himself, to ask her, “What’s wrong?”

“Barnes is a public figure,” she explained. “I think that woman over there just recognized Rogers by association. Cap’s return is going to be known soon.”

Lukas set his spoon down, grimacing. “We knew it would happen,” he said, more to convince himself than her. “Perhaps people will not be convinced when his appearance hasn’t aged, unlike James’.”

“There will be doubt,” she agreed. But she didn’t want it to linger there, because that smacked of willful blindness. Lukas needed to be prepared for the truth. “But unfortunately I think the public is already primed for the two of you to return at the same time, so there won’t be as much as you’d think. And you heard the news reports from Sokovia already mention you.”

“I know,” he agreed heavily. He spun the water bottle with meditative attention. “I feel this should be of no real concern to me. Notoriety is not, in itself, a problem. It can be enjoyable, even.”

She shook her head. “You were notorious among the wrong people,” she added quietly. “Twice. Of course you don’t want that kind of attention.”

“Which is ridiculous, because I am aware that those sort of evils are not common. They had incredible luck, striking when I was weakened; their ambush would not work today. So public attention should be nothing to me. Inconvenient, perhaps, but ultimately, appreciation is always better than the opposite, right?”

She listened to this attempt to perk himself up, and gave a bit of a smile. “I do my best work without attention, so I can’t answer that.”

He regarded her in some surprise. “No public attention, but surely some, from your employers? Even your opponents, I should think, give you much respect. And certainly I appreciate you and your many talents.”

It was her turn to be surprised – not only was he sincere, he didn’t say anything about her looks, which she expected, especially when she knew he was attracted to her. “Well, thank you.”

He smiled at her, amused. “Even if you do mock my dislike of aeroplanes.” He stood up. “Shall we see if Lucy has arrived yet?”

He was about to leave behind his tray and the debris of his meal, but hesitated when he noticed several disapproving glances sent their way. But he figured it out immediately, returning to their table to bring his tray to the disposal area.

Natasha watched from the door, nodding to herself. It was taking him awhile to adapt to this time, but he was also quick to read people and take his cue to fit in, when he wished. He’d make a good SHIELD agent, though he was understandably reluctant about the idea right now, he had told Fury he’d join the Avengers Initiative. She could suggest spying, interrogation, infiltration – those seemed to be a good fit with his talents – and perhaps SHIELD could find Lukas and her a mission together to ease him into it. Plus, he needed something to do; aimlessly floating wasn’t good for anyone, and especially not someone floundering after trauma and cutting ties to his family.

It would be good for him to meet Lucy, and hopefully the two would get along, so he could add her to his connections that would survive Carter and Barnes’ proximate death. Both were old, and Natasha knew enough about medical charts to be able to read Carter’s, to know her age was catching up with her. They would both die, if not soon as a human would figure it, definitely soon for Lukas.

They had to pass a restroom on the way back to Carter’s room. The door was propped open and there was a notice out front to close it for cleaning. Natasha’s nose twitched at the smell of bleach; it was nothing she smelled often anymore, since modern cleansers rarely contained strong concentrations of chlorine bleach, but they’d used it in the Red Room. The smell reminded her of scrubbing the bathrooms until her fingers were raw. And of learning how to use the bleach to make chlorine gas.

But Lukas reacted as if he’d been shot-- recoiling so hard he slammed himself against the opposite wall. Natasha whirled, alarmed, thinking he had been hit by some kind of weapon, and started to reach under her jacket for the sidearm at her back.

But it wasn’t necessary. His eyes were wide and glassy, unblinking and unseeing, trapped. His breaths were desperate and ragged, and he held his hands out to either side, pressed against the wall even as he slid down it to sit on the floor.

Shaking, he held his hands in the uncomfortably cruciform position, as if pinned.

She didn’t dare touch him and provoke an attack. With his strength returned, he could harm her without any awareness of doing so.

Kneeling out of his reach to the side, she called softly, “Lukas! Lukas, can you hear me? You’re safe-- come back to the present. Come back to me.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, letting out a soft moan of terror and pain that was meant to be a scream. 

* * *

... tbc...

 


	7. Chapter 7

Loki knew it had happened. Logically it must have happened. He knew there had been a wound across his stomach, but once it healed, it was easy to pretend it didn't happen. Until the acrid smell of the bleach touched his nose, flinging him back into the bright, blinding light and the shadowy forms of white-gowned and masked people.

. . .

 _This was different, and different was bad. He was strapped down at the hips and chest now, to keep him still_.

 _One took a scalpel and cut across his abdomen. The cut bit deep, and then again, deeper, slicing through flesh that should have been much tougher and was now merely mortal and fragile_.

 _He bit down on the gag, the rest of him tense against the bonds_.

 _The cut was opened up with tools, and a dispassionate voice made dry observations about everything he saw --- skin, muscle, organs, blood_...

 _Loki remained conscious and too aware, until one of them plunged gloved hands inside_.

 _He screamed until he ran out of air and his heart beat thundered in his ears, and even then he felt every single touch inflaming his nerves_.

 _Until finally, brain and body had taken all they could bear, and darkness closed in and there was the relief of nothingness_.

. . .

"Lukas, Lukas!"

Loki grabbed the sound of someone calling his Midgardian name like a man seizing a rope while drowning, and used it to pull himself out of the dark. At first he couldn’t catch his breath, as if something were crushing his ribs, and when he opened his eyes, everything seemed strange and wrong, and he didn’t know where he was or what had happened.

“Lukas,” he heard again, and looked in that direction.

Natasha knelt before him, watching him anxiously,, at which point he figured out he was on the floor, with his back to the wall. Her strong little hands found his, and wrapped them despite how much his were trembling.

The reflexive impulse to pull free, straighten up, and pretend he was fine rushed through his mind, but in the end, he did nothing. She already knew, so pride was a bit tardy.

A stranger asked, somewhere above him, “Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine, thank you,” Natasha answered, not taking her eyes from him. When the nurse or whoever it was, had gone, Natasha asked, "What was it that triggered you?"

"The smell." His voice was ragged, and he had to clear his throat. He leaned his head back against the wall, taking deliberate breaths. "They cut me open," he whispered.

Since she already knew that, she understood what he meant. "You were conscious?" she asked. The question was calm, fact-finding, not incredulous.

He nodded and shut his eyes, suddenly and strangely exhausted, as though he'd actually been through it again, not merely remembered it.

Her thumbs rubbed the backs of his hands, distracting and soothing. "Catch your breath. Remember, you're not there. You're right here."

His smile made a vague stab at genuine amusement before falling away again. "I know. Even if I didn't a moment ago." He regarded her a moment before asking, "You seem unsurprised. Does this happen to mortals?"

"Traumatic flashbacks? Yes. It can."

"It didn't happen before, to me," he said, then reconsidered with a frown. "Well, brief moments of loss. But nothing like this. It makes no sense. By any standard, Sokovia was far less terrible, so I do not see why I should react with such force."

She reminded him softly, “This isn’t out of the blue. You’re tired, and healing Director Carter made you remember it, so it’s fresh again.”

That was true enough. He’d tried to hold Margaret away from his memories, but the work had been too much of a strain to keep her back. Her eager mind had seized everything it could without the training to know her memories and thoughts from his. So they’d experienced some of it together, and Natasha was right: that had probably primed him for reacting to any reminder at all.

“Lukas –" she hesitated and then deliberately, called him by his true name, "Loki. We have doctors, trained in managing psychological trauma. You should have one help you."

He snorted and withdrew his hands. "And a mortal would understand my mind? I am not human, Natalya."

She stayed where she was, somber-faced, eyes intently gazing at his. "I know. But you're reacting like one, so perhaps if you get help like one, you might find some healing."

That hit its target. How did she know the right word? Because 'healing' was something he could accept. He needed something, because he seemed to be getting worse, not better. But still, it was difficult to agree to such a thing, touching pride and stubborn resistance that muttered at him that mortal doctors knew nothing, could not help, and he should be above all this...

Yet, he was not. Obviously. Because he had zero memory of how he had ended up on the floor, as if he'd found a crack in his mind and fallen into it.

Taking a deep careful breath, he looked at his hands, noting the fine tremors in his fingertips that he couldn’t stop, even clasping them across his stomach. "Do you think it could help? Truly?" he asked softly.

Her lips quirked upward, a bit crooked. "It helped me." Going unspoken but he knew: ‘you're not the only one with cracks in their mind.’ Her hand laid on his knee. "You didn't reject a bandage when you were shot in the arm; there's no reason to reject help you recover from this either, either."

The words caught him, snagged on him when he would have otherwise tried to shrug them away, and forced him to consider them. "You are too wise for your years, Natalya," he said and her smile widened, recognized the admission in his words.

"I'll ask around for someone you can trust."

He tried to rise, keeping a hand against the wall when his sense of balance lurched sideways, and Natasha’s gripped his shoulder to steady him. "C'mon, let's find you a place to sit down."

Once he was on his feet, he looked down the corridor, and the medical equipment suddenly loomed in his vision and turned his stomach.

“No,” he shook himself free. “I want to go to the hotel. I – can’t be here right now. Tell them-- I don’t know. Whatever you want.”

He hurried out of there, keeping from running by sheer willpower, alert for anything else that might turn him back into a slobbering wreck on the floor.

The fresh air outside the building was a slap to the face that helped him calm down and draw deeper breaths. It didn’t make him feel less of a fool, so thoroughly betrayed by his own mind.

As anxiety diminished, it left only weariness. Light-headed, he gripped the beam supporting the portico above the entrance, ending up with his forehead against it.

He wanted to go to the hotel, but he didn’t know where it was. Natasha had mentioned the name so he could probably find it on his phone, but driving in this state he was likely a danger to others. He doubted his concentration was strong enough to use other paths. How else? What would a mortal do?

Taxicab. But this was a quiet suburban street, with no cabs to flag down. What did one do?

Why did his mind feel like oozing sludge, so that he had to fight for each thought?

The automatic doors hissed open behind him, but he recognized her presence before she spoke.

“I see you got far,” Natasha teased behind him.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” he muttered. “I was on this planet for a century by myself, I crossed oceans and deserts, lived on mountains, found my way in crowded cities. I can manage.”

She moved closer, standing beside him, and murmured, “Of course you can. But the best part of friends is you don’t have to manage alone.” Her hand, delicate and warm, touched the back of his.

“I want to go back to the farm.” The wistful words came out, before he thought about it, then he shook his head at himself and huffed a breath. “No, not there. Just… somewhere.” Somewhere being that mythical place known as ‘home’, but since he didn’t have one, he had nowhere to go. He put his back to the pillar and leaned against it. “Norns, I am pathetic.”

“You’re exhausted,” she pointed out. “Come on, I’ll take you to the hotel and you can rest.”

“But Steven--”

“--is a big boy. He can take care of himself,” Natasha said and headed for the car. “Come on.”

He followed and once they were driving there, he let out a sigh. “I hope they pay you well for nursemaiding me.”

She glanced at him, smiling. “Before you, my assignment was cozying up to Tony Stark. You’re much less annoying.”

“You say that now...”

She patted his knee. “I’m sure you can be very annoying.”

Having expected a more generic reassurance to his jest, he was amused but the smile slipped away. “I should stay and meet Lucy.”

It was said without any actual intent to do that, only regret, so she kept on for the hotel. “You will. Just not today. She’s going to want to spend time with her mother, not you, so it’s probably for the best.” Natasha glanced at him. “You did a good thing, you know. Whatever sins you think you committed against them, you paid for them, okay? Let it go. I don’t think you can heal if you’re still trying to punish yourself.”

He glanced at her, lips flat, and returned, “Aren’t you? Punishing yourself for sins of the past?”

She hesitated to mull that one and shook her head. “No. I want to make up for the evils in my past, but to do good, not to punish myself. I think there’s a difference.”

“You want redemption,” he said.

Her lips turned in a small wry smile. “Not in this life. Not for me. But if I don’t do what I can now, then there’s no hope at all, is there?”

“Maybe there is no hope for people like us,” he murmured. “Maybe we’re damaged beyond repair.”

“Maybe we are. But as long as I keep hope alive for Cooper and Lila, that’s enough for me.”

He wondered if that was enough for him and whether helping Margaret had cleared his debt to her and James. Or was there a debt at all? They’d told him there wasn’t, and he’d seen her thoughts to know she believed it, so should he take Natasha’s advice and clear it? Or was it more true to acknowledge that he couldn’t change what he did; he’d made a selfish mistake, but at least he’d tried to make up for it. And perhaps the mistake was not as terrible as he wanted to believe it was.

He sighed and leaned back. He should rest since his mind was simply curling in on itself, questions with no answers.

Tomorrow would be soon enough for that.

* * *

Natasha showed Lukas to his room at the hotel and smiled when he sat on the bed and didn’t move, eyes at half-mast, as if his batteries had run out. “Lukas. Lie down,” she suggested.

He listed to one side as if part of him heard her, but not enough to fulfill the suggestion. She reached out to push his shoulder and tip him over, but he caught her wrist and pulled her down on top of him, as he fell backward.

She froze, waiting to see what he was doing. She could free herself, but it obviously wasn’t an attack. He felt exactly as she’d thought he would, when she’d seen him shirtless on that rocky beach in Arendelle, muscular but lithe, and his other hand when he pushed his fingers through her hair next to her face made her skin shiver with the delicacy of his touch.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. His fingers caressed lightly from her temple to her cheek, and despite his words, he wasn’t looking at her, only caressing her face lightly with his fingertips.

“Lukas, what are you doing?” she whispered, pitching it as curiosity, not rejection. Because she didn’t want him to stop, but she was worried that he was doing this without full awareness.

But his eyes opened to find hers, and they were awake. “I don’t know,” he answered, but his hand knew, sliding down and cupping her neck from behind. Never demanding, not pulling her to him, only slowly exploring as if her skin was a delicate art piece and he didn’t want to damage it. “I wanted… to offer you…. I don’t know how it’s said these days-- to touch you, to give you what you seemed to want that time at the farm,” he murmured. “Your skin is so warm.”

“You said you didn’t want intimacy or attachment,” she reminded him.

He shook his head. “I have little else to offer,” he returned. His thumb traced her lower lip. “You have been so generous, I thought at least this I could give you in return.”

The meaning of his words struck and she lifted her chin, drawing away from his touch and looking in his eyes. “In return?” she repeated. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“But I do,” he disagreed. His other hand smoothed down the back of her jacket until it found her sidearm, shifting aside to her hip instead without comment. “And for a little while, we can both pretend the past doesn’t exist. Only the present.”

“I would,” she murmured. “But I don’t want you to do anything because you feel obligated. That’s just a different form of coercion--”

He frowned and shook his head, hand falling away from her. “No, of course it isn’t.”

“Isn’t it?” She laid a finger across his lips. “No. Staying with you, helping you, isn’t a debt you need to repay.”

“But you could be doing so much more,” he objected.

That was flattering, and she felt a bit warm. So often men only saw the woman, not the agent, which was of course what she showed them, but from the first meeting, Lukas had seen beyond that. She smiled, a bit crooked, “Well, if it makes you feel better, I’m guarding a SHIELD asset. That’s you. Also, I’m here to keep and earn your trust, after those traitors broke it. And I’m observing and interrogating an alien visitor. Which isn’t a mission they give to just anyone,” she added dryly, joking a little bit, but it was also true.

“Interrogating?” he repeated, sounding lightly amused. “Then I think I should reveal exactly how much I know.” His hands clasped her waist and lower ribs and slid slowly down her hips.

It was with a little regret that she captured one of his hands with hers and pulled it away. “Lukas, this isn’t the time. You’re exhausted, and I don’t think you’re ready yet.”

“Ready? Can you not tell how ready I am?” he teased, bending his knee to part her legs.

That movement gave her room to touch his inner thigh. It was a fleeting touch, not intimate, but he still gave a full body flinch beneath her and hand slammed into her ribs to shove her off him.

She rolled with it, ending kneeling beside him and looking down into his face, which was suddenly ashen. He turned his head away, breathing rapidly.

For a moment, silence lingered, his lips quivering with something he couldn’t quite bring himself to say but shame looked to be the greater part of it. He knew his reaction had given away the truth, though she’d already guessed.

“I’m not hurt,” she reassured him and gave him a sympathetic smile. “Lukas, they hurt you in Sokovia. They assaulted you. I understand that. Believe me, I understand. I know the appeal of trying to erase or replace the memory of what they did to you. Or of wanting to forget. But you don’t feel safe, and if you push yourself to do this now, you won’t feel safe with me. I don’t want that.” His jaw tightened, eyes sliding away, in hurt at her words, taking them for rejection, when she hadn’t meant them that way. She touched his face, letting her fingers trace a similar path his had taken. His gaze flew back to meet hers, startled that she was touching him, and she smiled. “I want you whole and truly ready.” Leaning down, she kissed his lips, making hers speak her promise and her willingness.

He returned it, eagerly, rising up to meet it and deepen it, not wanting to let her go.

She drew back, sorry to stop. “Later, I promise.” She touched his lips to seal it. “Now rest. I’ll see you in the morning.”

On her way to the door, he called after her, “It would’ve been good for you.”

She looked over her shoulder and gave him her best sultry ‘come hither’ look. “I’ll hold you to that.”

His soft chuckle followed her out and she shut the door behind her.

In her own room, she thought about how he’d reacted and the other events of the day, what he’d said and not said. He was feeling too dependent on her, so much so that he was trying to ‘even the score’ by offering to give her sex, even though he was in no way ready yet.

He needed to feel safe, and he needed to know more people he could trust so he wasn’t so isolated. Social isolation and dependence were useful tools if she wanted information, but she wanted his wellness and willingness to help, not information. He was on the edge of going off on his own, to prove to himself he could, and he might never return if that happened.

So, she needed people she could trust who weren’t HYDRA or otherwise scumbags. Running a mental list, she stopped – she was missing the obvious.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed a number from memory.

“ _Hill. Go ahead, Natasha. I hear Lukas did something miraculous to help Director Carter_?”

Natasha lifted a brow, impressed that Maria already knew. “Yes, he did. She seems better, whatever he did. But it exhausted him and he had a panic attack. The trauma runs pretty deep. So I have a special request to get him help,” Natasha asked.

“ _For me or for you_?” Maria joked dryly, but added, “ _I’ll ask Psych_ \--”

“No. Not attached to SHIELD,” Natasha interrupted. “He’ll never go for that.”

Maria sighed and her voice grew heavy as she said, “ _No, he won’t, will he? Damn it. Can’t blame him either. It’s on us to help, so I’ll look into it. Anything else_?”

“I need some people brought in to visit him.”

Luckily Maria was open to this plan as well, and when Natasha hung up, she had some confidence this would help him.

* * *

... tbc... 


	8. Chapter 8

Loki was feeling rather foolish the following morning. He’d slept like a stone, without any dreams he could recall, and that helped his strength return to normal. He bathed and used the hotel-provided toothbrush, remembering his promise to Laura about cleaning his teeth. After, he formed new clothes, black jeans and plain black T-shirt, and headed for the door. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the dresser and stopped.

He’d picked the clothes without much thought, but now he looked at them and knew: he was in disguise. He was hiding. But why should he? If Steve had been found out, Loki would be next. Why pretend to be what he was not? He didn’t need his battle armor, but he could wear something that looked less like a university student and more like who he was.

He changed the shirt to button-front, long-sleeved silk in Arendelle teal with violet buttons. Smoothing his hair back, he looked at himself and nodded approval. Better. The pack would only attack the weak, not the strong. He’d shown too much weakness, and it was time to get over it.

He texted both Natasha and Steve that he was awake, presuming they had both risen since the hour was late enough, and hurried to the breakfast room before they took all the food away.

Loki was helping himself to another bagel (stale and with indifferent spread) when Natasha entered. She was wearing slim-fitting jeans and her loose black jacket over her white top, which meant she probably had a weapon at the back of her waist again. Her hair was loose on her shoulders, and there was just enough gloss on her lips to draw his gaze.

They’d kissed. The memory of that made him want to touch his own lips. Reality asserted itself and he wondered – had he really been that pathetically needy? Norns, no wonder she’d turned him down. Still he forced a smile at her and beckoned her to join him. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” She didn’t sit down, standing on the other side of the table as if she didn’t expect to be staying.

“Rested. Ready for whatever the plan is for today. To see James and Margaret, I assume?”

“If you want, later, sure,” she said. “But we have an appointment to visit Agent Coulson. He wants your advice on something.”

That was curious, but Loki passed over it to ask, “Where’s Steven?”

“He had an appointment at the Pentagon. They heard they’ll have to cough up seventy years of backpay and are already trying to weasel out of it.” She leaned on the back of the chair in front of her, seeming relaxed and amused.

“Coulson didn’t want to go with him?” Loki asked, finding that dubious. Coulson didn’t have an Ice Demon toaster, after all.

“Not when Nick’s going himself. Maria said he wasn’t pleased this was out in the open so quickly – that nurse’s photo was picked up on some of the gossip websites. It’s still only rumor, and they haven’t connected you, yet, but….” she shrugged, and he grimaced, not surprised.

“What does Coulson want my advice on?”

“I assume he wants to ask you about things before Rogers’ time.” She teased, “He’s old but not ancient.”

Loki was tempted to stick out his tongue at her like Lila did, but restrained himself to wrinkling his nose at her. “Hilarious.” He drained his orange juice and stood. “Fine. We should go then?”

Away from the breakfast room, he said to Natasha, “I hope I did nothing unacceptable last night? I was not myself.”

“I think you were,” she disagreed. He grimaced at that second-hand rejection and what it told him of his behavior, which he barely remembered, except he knew he’d pulled her down, she’d kissed him, and when she’d touched him, he’d flinched so hard he’d nearly dumped her on the floor.

She glanced his way as they walked. “You know I meant it, right? ‘Not now’ doesn’t mean never; it means not now.”

“Sometimes it means never,” he corrected, “but I am… pleased to know what you believe it means.” He considered what he recalled of the night before and added wryly, “At least my lack of lucidity did not chase you away.”

“You were truthful, and that’s rare in my business for anyone to be so willing to reveal themselves as you did,” she said.

“And an exploitable weakness, surely?” he asked.

“In my enemies,” she confirmed. “But if you were my enemy I would’ve accepted your offer.” When he was silent, turning that over in his mind, she asked, “You disapprove?”

“No,” he answered and gave a short laugh. “It would be highly hypocritical of me, after all. No, I was pondering that my skills are either so atrophied or yours are so strong that my invitation could be rejected.” He said it lightly, though she had been wiser to refuse him. As yesterday had shown so clearly, he wasn’t ready.

As they waited for the valet to bring the car from whatever mysterious place they stashed it, she glanced at him. “Arendelle colors? Not very subtle.”

He shrugged. “I felt tired of hiding.”

“You didn’t have it with you. Where did it come from?”

Now this was an entertaining turn in the conversation. He grinned at her. “Magic.”

“Useful,” she murmured with a nod, as if she were completely accustomed to the idea that he could pull clothes out of nothingness. He did not believe it.

He folded his arms and accused, “You’re pretending to be unimpressed.”

“Am I?” she returned blandly, with not a twitch to prove otherwise.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he declared, “I see l have to make a more impressive effort to demonstrate my skills, next time.”

“You’re not the only one with skills. Maybe I’ll demonstrate some of mine,” she retorted.

“Oh, I hope so.”

They were smiling at each other as the valet brought the car around.

* * *

Natasha glanced at Lukas as she drove toward the Triskelion for their meeting with Coulson. He seemed better today, flirting with her easily, but yesterday’s panic attack still disturbed her. The surface was intact, but underneath seemed, if not broken, at least deeply cracked.

With luck Maria would have some information on help for Lukas. Natasha could break him easily enough, but putting someone back together was not something they’d taught in the Red Room.

“There,” she pointed, lifting one finger off the wheel to point at the high building across the river. “The Triskelion, administrative HQ for SHIELD.”

It was pretty impressive, she always thought, modern glass and steel, as if it was rising out of the river, and nothing like the short buildings around it. And for her, it meant something approaching ‘home’, since that was where Natasha Romanoff had been born.

As they approached the bridge, Loki grabbed the steering wheel abruptly and sent the car onto the shoulder. She stomped the brake pedal in reflex, arms up to protect her face against the windshield breaking. Car horns blared all around them, and she braced for something to hit them.

“What are you--? Lukas, what was that?” she demanded after the car had shuddered to a halt. “My god, in traffic, we could’ve been hit!”

He sat, arms folded, and did not look at her. “I won’t go there,” he declared, and jerked his chin in the direction of the Triskelion looming on the other bank of the river.

She took a beat to tamp down her reflexive impatience, and said, “It’s a meeting. Nothing’s going to happen.”

“No.”

“You went in the SHIELD building in New York. Why is this different?”

“Because it is,” he insisted, voice tightening. She thought it had little to do with the building, and more to do with having seen Carter and Barnes and the resurgence of old memories. His explanation had nothing to do with that, though, when he said, “When I look on the shadowpath, all I see are dark echoes, Natalya. Terrible things have happened inside that building, on its grounds.”

She frowned. “Nothing like that happened here, Lukas. Director Carter built it, or at least the previous version of the building. This one’s only five years old; there aren’t any ghosts in it.” She smiled a little, trying to get him to relax, but he refused.

“No. Tell Agent Coulson I will meet with him, but not in that building.”

That sounded non-negotiable. If this were nothing more than exerting some control over SHIELD, rather than feeling summoned, he had a right to do that, and especially if he felt the building was malevolent, there was nothing to be gained by trying to talk him into it. She took her phone out. “Where do you want to meet?”

“I don’t care.”

But he did, that much she knew. Nowhere dark or underground or heavy security to make him fear an ambush. “All right. I’ll call him. We’ll go back to the hotel and we can meet with him somewhere else.”

“Thank you,” he said with distant politeness.

She texted Coulson that Lukas was refusing to enter the Triskelion and they would have to meet somewhere else. Lukas only spoke again when they’d looped around and were heading back to the hotel.

“I do not know who you offended at SHIELD or what crime you committed to be forced to tend to me, but I do appreciate it,” he murmured, breaking the silence.

“My choice,” she reassured him, and touched his knee lightly. “Phil and the rest understand you have some understandable problems trusting the rest of SHIELD.”

“And I would let no one else keep watch on me,” he observed. “So they don’t recall you to something else.”

“Also true,” she admitted, and pulled into the short driveway for the valet to take the car back. “C’mon, let’s go to the bar and wait for Phil’s answer.”

The hotel bar was in the process of switching from coffee to alcohol, so she was not surprised when Loki ordered whiskey and sat at the corner table in the bar area. The furniture was that curious blend of plush and not proportioned properly, so the seats were too low and narrow for Lukas' long legs so he looked like he was sitting in a child's chair. He didn't seem to notice, however. She ordered an iced tea and said, “You can take it up to your room if you want. I’ll call you.”

His eyes flicked in the direction of the elevators as if he were considering it, but he shook his head. “No, here is fine.” He gulped half his drink and set the glass on the table so he wouldn’t finish it, and inhaled a deep breath, spreading large hands across his thighs. “I do wish this would ease.”

Glad that he was admitting the problem, she told him, “It will. Give yourself some time.”

“You counsel patience, and I know you are right, but--” he grimaced and shook his head. “Not a strength of mine.”

“And?” she probed.

“And,” he echoed, looking everywhere but at her, “I hate it. My-- the place I grew up prized strength above all things and despised weakness. To find such weakness in myself--” he glanced at the mirror hanging over the bar, “I wonder if they were right about me, after all. That sorcery and tricks are the weapons of the weak and unworthy.”

It wasn’t hard for her to parse that one, having met Thor. But centuries’ old sibling rivalry was a big nut to crack, so she stayed to what she knew. “I think if any of them had experienced what you have, they would be drooling husks. Because I’ll tell you something I learned long ago - the ones who never face adversity but believe themselves strong, are the first to break.”

“And when you break anyway?” Loki murmured, head down and hair hanging loose at the side of his face, so that she reached across and smoothed it behind his ear, out of the way.

“You’re not broken. Hurt, but you’re here, you made it,” she reminded him. “Sometimes surviving is a victory, Lukas. Sometimes making it through with only a piece of your soul is the best you can do.”

His gaze met hers, and his hand covered hers, where she’d laid it on his leg. “You have more than a piece, Natalya.”

It was ridiculous how that sparked warmth in her chest, that he would recognize that she’d meant it about herself and say that to her. She didn’t need reassurance or confirmation, but it felt good to hear anyway.

But she pulled her hand back as her phone buzzed with a text. “Coulson’s coming here. He’s not far.”

Lukas sat up, and there was nothing to read in his expression, the upset smoothed away.

* * *

Loki knew from the way Natasha tensed when she glanced toward the front of the lobby as the outer doors opened, that Coulson had come. They both stood to wave him over to the lounge. “Agent Coulson, thank you for meeting here,” Loki said and gestured Coulson to the opposite stuffed chair in lieu of shaking hands.

“No problem,” Coulson answered, with just enough edge to let them know it had been a problem but he was accommodating it. Natasha flicked her eyes at him that she noticed, too.

“You did not wish Steve a part of this,” Loki said, as an opener, to see what Coulson would say. That had made him suspicious that they wanted only Loki for something, but were keeping Steve away. “Why?”

Coulson’s surprise looked genuine. “Oh, I figured he’d have no interest in what I wanted to talk to you about.” He set his briefcase on the table and opened it with his thumb on the lock. “SHIELD’s picked up some artifacts we can’t identify; sometimes we can’t even figure out what they do. We’re hoping you know something about them.”

Loki relaxed and spread his hands. “I would be happy to offer whatever assistance I may. Did you bring these items here?”

Coulson gave a short laugh. “No, no, just pictures for now. They’re secure in a lab.” He made a small grimace. “I didn’t think you would want to visit in person.”

Just the words “secure” and “lab” made his heart thud too heavily in his chest, and Loki forced a smile. “Not especially. So, photographs?”

He removed a file folder from his satchel and pulled out a stack of photos, handing the top one over to Loki. “This cylinder was found in an old burial site in China. They used to think it was obsidian but we know now it’s some sort of carbon-polymer, far too advanced for Earth five hundred years ago, obviously. If touched, it hums, but R&D suspects the power source is failing so it might have done more, at one time.”

He handed the picture to Loki, who looked at it and chuckled. “Oh, mortals, never stop being so amusing.”

“You know what it is? Where it’s from?” Coulson asked eagerly.

“The markings here are from a race called the Kree. They are quite powerful. Asgard forbids their presence on Midgard, although this may not have come from one of them directly. Because many races can use this.” He tossed the photo back at Coulson, with a smirk. “It is a device for use between partners during sex acts.”

Coulson looked at the photo and his eyes went wide, as the purpose of the dark shiny cylindrical object with the tapered ends suddenly became obvious. “Oh my God, it’s a vibrator?” he blurted.

Natasha burst into laughter at his tone that only grew when Coulson tried to glower at her to stop.

“Is that what you call them?” Loki asked, with deliberate innocent curiosity, teasing him. “To be more specific, I believe that one is for insertion in both--”

“I get it!” Coulson cut him off. “Good to know. I guess. That’s going to be a fun report. Maybe I’ll just bury it in the lab again.”

“Oh no, you should use it,” Loki suggested. “Though if the power supply is weakening it might not be quite as pleasurable.” Coulson shaded pink, while Natasha laughed. Loki wasn’t sure which reaction was more delightful.

Coulson cleared his throat. “Moving on. Hopefully not also a sex toy.” He handed the next one to Loki.

Loki was disappointed when he didn’t recognize the mouse-sized golden pyramid, etched with a geometric but unfamiliar pattern. “The temptation to tell you a story is nearly overwhelming, but no, I have no idea what it is or where it comes from. I would need a closer look.”

“Okay. Next.”

They went through three more – one unknown, the second was a Nova Empire holographic communications device broken in half, and the third was a Kree riitual blade which was making Loki suspicious that the Kree had been to Midgard more often than an interdicted world should have been. But the next photograph was a punch to the chest. Sitting on a white plastic tray, next to a baseball for size, there was a metallic ball. Part of the metal shielding had been cut and bent to expose a glowing core. He stared at it, not breathing, memories of a baby cooing at the sight of it floating, attacking him with their sharp little knives.

His voice was ragged. “That’s mine. I want it back.”

“It’s yours?” Coulson asked. “We knew it was alien technology when it was recovered by the SSR in ‘52, but not that it was yours. It was with some Latverians who got it from Hydra.”

Loki blinked and shoved the pain away, to get control of himself. Anger rose up in place of the pain, disliking the sense that he was being played. He leaned back, feigning ease, but did not disguise the hostile sharpness of the gaze. “Oh come, Coulson, you must have had some idea. Or why ask me?”

Coulson read the warning and grimaced a bit before admitting, “Well, given the Hydra connection there was a suspicion that you might know about it, and I wanted to confirm that. What does it do?”

“It hovers, spins, and flashes lights for a child’s amusement.”

“It’s a _toy_?” Coulson exclaimed, but Natasha leaned near to put her hand on Loki’s arm, giving him an inquiring look that he was all right.

That gave him the strength to take a breath and explain, “My brother gave it to a princess of Arendelle, as a gift. Schmidt stole it, and I want it back.”

Coulson hesitated, thinking it through, then nodded agreement. “Of course, we can do that. It’s not here; it’s in our experimental science facility. Agent Barton is headed there for another assignment, so I’ll give him orders to bring it back with him when he’s done.” He raised his eyebrows at Loki. “If that’s acceptable?”

“That seems fine. Just so long it is not conveniently ‘forgotten’ to return to me,” Loki warned. “My book was destroyed by your people, so I want the ball.”

He didn’t know what he would do with it. He shouldn’t return it to Arendelle – now that it was a known alien artifact and power source, it would only be stolen again – but he knew he didn’t want it in SHIELD hands.

“I won’t let them forget,” Coulson promised and shoved the file folder back in his case. “That’s all for now.”

“That’s all?” Loki repeated, finding that absurd. “You come all the way here for that?”

“I had intended to give you a tour of the Triskelion,” Coulson answered drily. “I’d like to show you the truth about what we do and who we are. I think you’d like it. But I know those traitors broke your trust, and it’ll take time. I hope you’ll give us – me – a chance earn it back.”

Loki joined him, standing, and shook his hand. He kept hold of Coulson’s hand, and met his gaze so he would understood that Loki meant his words. “I _am_ giving you a chance, Agent Coulson. Otherwise I would burn SHIELD to the ground with everyone inside. Do not mistake mercy for a weakness of will.”

He could see the instinct in Coulson to rise to the challenge, but fortunately he swallowed back confrontational words, and merely nodded once. “I understand. Mister Onsdag, I’ll be in touch. Agent Romanoff, your requested package will be delivered soon. Good luck.”

He walked away, and Loki lifted a brow at Natasha. “Package?"

"Something I think you'll like," she teased. "It's a surprise."

"I'm not sure I like surprises," he muttered, but returned to his seat to sniff at the pleasant aroma of the whiskey and decided she was not going to get away with all the secrets. "Tell me, is the facility where they’re keeping the ball, also where the tesseract is?”

She didn’t flinch – she was good – but Loki didn’t need a reaction or a response to confirm anything. After a moment considering a denial, she grimaced and gave in to the inevitable. Her gaze met his. “How the hell do you know?” she asked curiously. “I never talked about it. You couldn’t have overheard anything that gave it away. So, how?”

He smirked. “When you found out who I am, no one asked me to pinpoint where the plane went down. That told me it had been found. If they found the plane, the tesseract fell not that distant. SHIELD has the technology to detect the Bifrost, so they should be able to locate the unshielded tesseract as well.”

“Ah,” she said and smiled in appreciation. “Well played.”

“High praise from you.” He drained the whiskey and set the glass back on the table. “Shall we find Steven? Perhaps we can all visit a museum. I enjoy ridiculing everything they say about the 1700s.”

“Let me text him and see where he is,” she said, taking out her phone. The answer was prompt and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “He says he’s on his way back; we should wait.”

Steve walked into the lobby as Loki was pondering another drink and shifted his wave at the bartender to waving for Steve’s attention.

“You look rested,” Steve greeted.

“You look as if you were fighting bureaucrats all morning,” Loki returned, and was rewarded for his easy guess by a heartfelt groan as Steve dropped into the other seat.

“Oh God, at first they didn’t believe me, of course, even though Fury was with me. And then they did believe me and that was worse, since they paraded me around to all the generals. I'm back to being a performing monkey,” he finished in digust. “You were right, nothing changes. Not really.”

Loki held back the verbal “I told you so” but couldn’t help a smirk at this validation.

“What are they going to do with your status?” Natasha asked.

“You think they’re going to make that decision in one day? C’mon.” Steve scoffed. “It was so annoying I left. I have better things to do with my time.”

“Like lunch?” Loki suggested. The other two agreed with his suggestion, but as they decided to go to the grill down the street, Natasha checked her phone, as if looking for an update on her mysterious package. What surprise could she possibly have that he would like? What did she have planned, evidently with SHIELD collusion?

Wondering about the surprise was a little bit thrilling, and he decided to enjoy the anticipation and not badger her for the answer just yet.

* * *

tbc.. 

 


	9. Chapter 9

At lunch, Loki started to feel Natasha was deliberately delaying their departure. She ordered coffee and dessert, and then gave the dessert to Steve because she didn’t actually want to eat it.

“Something wrong?” Loki asked her.

“No, not at all.”

But finally she got a text, and it was no surprise they were headed back to the hotel shortly after. But as they got closer, he decided he was finished playing along. He stopped on the sidewalk and folded his arms. “Is this about the surprise? Because I am becoming less certain I wish a surprise. And certainly not a surprise from SHIELD.”

She touched his shoulder, and let her eyes slide away as she considered, then decided the surprise wasn’t worth his building anxiety. “It’s nothing bad. There are some people waiting in the lobby I want you to meet. Well, you met them before but I’m not sure you remember them.”

He frowned. “Before?”

Her eyes flicked to Steve. “Sokovia.”

“Sokovia?” Steve echoed. “You mentioned that before, what happened in Sokovia?”

“Not now,” Loki said shortly, not taking his eyes away from Natasha. He knew she wouldn’t want him to meet anyone terrible from Sokovia. If SHIELD had captured escaped Hydra people they wouldn’t be waiting in the lobby of the hotel.

Telling himself these things didn’t help his heart stay at a level calm.

 _Breathe slowly_ , he reminded himself. _I am a seidrmaster; I learned how to focus, I learned how to use my will to reach the primal force of the universe. And I tire of having mortal ants control me from death_.

When he was able to meet Natasha’s eyes again, she added, “Doctor Maximova’s children.”

Relief made him laugh. “Oh! Well, why didn’t you say so? That _is_ a good surprise!” He headed down the sidewalk. “Come then.”

“Sokovia?” Steve insisted, and Loki could tell he wasn’t going to be able to put him off again.

“You remember Hydra?” Loki asked him, not pausing to cross the street even though the walk signal was nearly at zero. “It turned out that a small off-shoot of Hydra lingered in Sokovia. I was injured in the fight, and Doctor Maximova in the hospital there helped me. I am glad to hear her children have come here.” The driver honked, unable to turn with Loki in the sidewalk in front of him; Loki tossed an illusory brick at the windshield of the vehicle, smirking as the driver recoiled in the belief the glass was going to shatter. On the sidewalk, he asked Natasha as if nothing had happened, “Are they visiting?”

She gave him a narrowed eyed look of disapproval, which Loki ignored, and she gave in and shook her head. “No. We inspired them to join SHIELD, and they’ve just started at the Academy.”

His step faltered, as he wondered if they were truly his enemies after all, seeking to infiltrate SHIELD, but put that aside. Natasha would know, since she’d been there and would know better whether their help had been genuine or not. And since she believed it had been, then it was, and his doubt was mere reflexive fear, not truth.

He nodded. “That’s a good idea to recruit younger people who saw the vileness of Hydra in their homeland so they might work against it better in SHIELD.” He ignored Natasha’s glance that suggested she didn’t really buy his cheerful approval, and she didn’t say anything, sliding past him to enter the automatic doors first.

The young people were immediately obvious, visible from down the lobby area where they were standing together in some unease by the fireplace seating area.

They were both handsome, but Loki's eyes were drawn to the young man's nearly white hair with a pang of loss, since it reminded him of Elsa.

"Wanda and Pietro Maximoff," Natasha introduced. "Lukas Onsdag. They helped us get you out of the fort in Sokovia, and Clint recruited them. They wanted to meet you, now that you're better."

Loki stepped forward, extending his hand. "Then I owe you a great debt of gra... ti... tude..." His voice faded away, as he felt an odd echo within, a sense of familiarity. There was a feeling that called to him and found its mate in him, rebounding to both of them. His eyes traveled between them both, and Wanda seemed to feel it, too, her gaze snapping up to his with wide-eyed shock.

He held out a hand, palm upward. "Wanda."

She set her hand over his, tentatively at first. When their fingers tightened on each other, that familiarity echoed between them like a plucked string.

"How?" she whispered. "What does it mean?"

He held out his other hand for Pietro and felt the same, and a smile grew in tandem with the growing sense of elation within, like a surge of glowing light caught in his chest as he understood. "It means... it means, you are.... You are of my blood, my descent. I'm not sure how, yet, but it is distinct and quite strong in you. This … this is more than I could ever have imagined." He laughed a little, at his own amazement, and his eyes stung with tears. "Family." He turned his head to look at Natasha. "How did you know?"

She shook her head, smile hovering on her lips for his delight and amazement. "I didn't. I only wanted you to know more people you can trust were near. I had no idea you were related to them."

"Now I understand," Wanda said, glancing at their joined hands. "I knew I wanted to help you. I knew it was something we had to do. It felt... right."

"I'm very glad you did, but even more glad to know you exist." Loki let go of their hands, but only so he could lift one and touch Pietro's nearly white hair. "You look so much like my daughter."

"Our father had it, too," Pietro said.

"Had?" he repeated, disappointed that this new relative might have died already without Loki getting to know him. "Is he-- did he die?"

The twins exchanged a glance. "We don't know. He left when we were little," Pietro said flatly. "He disappeared."

"Oh. I am sorry. Both for your sake and that I cannot meet him, too. But still, that erases none of my excitement to find family here on Midgard. And with powers as well."

They looked at each other again, surprised. "No," Pietro said, "we have none. Or at least I have none, Wanda has a little..."

Loki interrupted them, smiling, "No, no, my friends, you have more than that. The blood runs strong in you, and the potential for more is there. I can help you unlock it. If you wish," he added, though he had little doubt they would want to. This was a new dangerous age and they were children who already knew war.

But Wanda had another thought. "Mother said our father had some kind of power. He could move things like coins with his mind. That was why she was never surprised by my other sense. She said once that he told her he was a prisoner in one of the Nazi camps. She thought it was a lie, because he looked too young... But maybe it was true. You were here during the war, too."

Loki's jaw loosened, wondering if this relative of his might have been captive at the same time he was. He might have been a test subject at some point, and like Barnes, some version of the serum had worked to enhance his lifespan. He might have been at the same facility as Loki at some point, his own descendant down the hall from him. "Do you know his name?"

"Erik," Pietro answered unexpectedly. "but I do not know his family name. Mother never told us. She was not happy with him when he left. Maximov is her family. I think he was a child in the war, or at tleast that was what I understood."

 _Erik_. Erik. A relative. A child? Could Erik be his son? Who could he be?

Thor had mentioned an Erik Selvig who worked with Jane Foster to recreate the Bifrost. Thor hadn’t mentioned any powers nor resemblance to Elsa, but Thor had been so protective, he might have decided it was too upsetting to tell Loki about. Loki would have to look into it, just in case. Since SHIELD had taken many of the old Hydra files, Loki wondered if he might get more information.

“She may know his family name,” Wanda offered. “I will ask her.”

"Well, a last name would help, but there are other ways. But,” Loki thought of the timing with more care and less hope, and said with some disappointment, “I did not come to Midgard until late and I did not--” He was about to say he had not bedded any human woman during the war, but the sudden memory of hands sent him flinching back. Was it possible? Had they taken--? No, he was not thinking that; the timing was wrong and he would not go there. "He cannot be my son. He must stem from Elsa in Arendelle, or another I did not know about in the 1700s. I was not so careful back then."

"Three hundred years?" Pietro asked, doubting this information. "You are so old?”

Ah, that made him feel better as he smirked. "You know you are the blood of a god, Pietro?” They gaped on hearing that, probably at the affront to their personal religion whatever it was, and he laughed at their faces.

Pietro asked, “And Thor, too?”

That caught Loki up, realizing that of course they had met Thor. “He… and I share no blood,” he answered levelly, wishing this simple fact didn’t twist inside. He knew they were not blood kin, he’d known it for centuries, and yet acknowledging the truth still threw him back to that wrenching conversation with Odin and Frigga at his coming of age when he’d felt his heart shatter into smaller and smaller pieces. They’d said so many words meant to be reassuring, yet those words had been hollow, nothing but explanations and excuses for why they treated Thor as the ‘true’ son and Loki got the scraps of whatever was left over.

He cleared his throat and finished, “So you share none with him. Only with me. I’m sorry if that is a disappointment.”

Steve had been hanging back, content to watch with Natasha, but he moved forward. “Lukas? They’re related to you? You can tell that?”

It was a relief to stir himself from bitter old resentment. “I can,” he answered. “Wanda, Pietro, this is my friend, Steve Rogers.”

Their eyes grew wide, and Wanda looked from Steve to Loki and back again before she asked, “You are Captain America?”

“It’s sort of a secret that I’m back,” Steve said, shaking their hands as if he thought they were at a business meeting. Loki wanted to roll his eyes. “Please don’t tell anyone just yet.”

“No, of course not,” they both reassured him hastily.

“We should take over the corner of the bar and get to know each other,” Loki suggested.

They talked, keeping to topics of their home in Sokovia and their time so far in the US. It was pleasant but shallow. Loki had to remind himself that he was a stranger to them, and not everyone could be as welcoming as Elsa and Anna had been to him. They weren’t unfriendly, but it lacked immediate warmth.

But then, he realized it was because they were both afraid of what he’d said about their power, when Wanda asked into a lull, “You said that you might unlock greater power inside us. What did you mean? How?”

He leaned back in the chair and rested the mug of bitter tea on his knee. “Elsa, the Snow Queen of Arendelle, was able to manipulate climate such that she cast her entire kingdom into winter during July.”

“You think we could do that?” Pietro asked in utter disbelief.

He shrugged, but Natasha interjected, “Wanda said she had some psychic ability. Surely that could expand?”

Loki raised his mug to Wanda in salute. “Yes, probably. Psychic ability? So you have already unlocked your potential, at least partially, it would seem. The ability had already decided on the form it will take.’

She frowned. “Do I want it to expand? That seems dangerous.”

Steve leaned forward. “You know I faced that choice, right? If you know who I am, you know the basics of the story. I was a scrawny kid who wanted to fight, but more than that, I wanted to help. The Army had rejected me for being sickly and weak, but Doctor Erskine offered me the chance to take this risk with the serum and become something greater. To do what I could, to protect innocents.”

“Very inspirational, Steven,” Loki said dryly.

Natasha shot him a look to shut up the commentary, and she added, “That’s what you told us about joining SHIELD, wasn’t it? The Winter Angel?”

Loki sat forward, curious about the name. “Winter Angel? What is that?”

“It’s a movie, based loosely on Barnes’ book about you,” she explained.

His jaw loosened and he stared. “There is a film, about me, that you did not mention? I knew about the comic book, but surely you could have told me about a movie so I could watch it and laugh,” Loki said, affronted.

“You wouldn’t laugh,” she answered rather flatly. “It’s the whole story of you during the war, Lukas. It’s not a comedy. And whether it’s accurate or not, I guarantee you aren’t ready to see it yet.”

Oh. The movie was about everything. Depicted everything.

A dark curtain passed across his vision, memories of pain and helplessness, Schmidt’s hideous face and voice, and the cold touch of hands everywhere.

“I see,” he said, and his voice seemed to be coming from far away. “It was good to meet you both. Excuse me.”

He set the mug carefully on the low table and walked away, as the walls were closing in on him. Sokovian children, reminders of Schmidt and Zola, even Steven talking about the serum…

The air was too heavy to breathe.

He went outside the hotel into fall’s warm spell, humidity creeping on the back of his neck beneath his hair, and walked.

* * *

Natasha watched him leave, and inwardly shook her head.

“It still affects him,” Steve said sadly.

“Still?” Pietro repeated in confusion, and looked to Natasha. “It was only weeks past.”

“Wait, what? Weeks? You mean years, right? Wasn’t it?” Steve also looked at Natasha, expecting a translation misunderstanding, and she knew she was going to have to tell him. Lukas would expect her to after his unsubtle reaction, and she was tired of hiding it.

The twins exchanged a glance, and Pietro asked Natasha, “He does not know?”

“No,” she admitted with a sigh. “Lukas was trying to keep it to himself. But you should know, Rogers. I’ll tell you.”

Wanda glanced at Pietro. “We should go. Over there. Pietro.” When he didn’t follow her quickly enough, she pulled on his shirt to take him away.

When they were gone, Natasha took the corner seat and Steve sat close. “What really happened in Sokovia?” he asked.

She sipped at her drink and answered his question with one of her own, "What did he tell you about the month before you woke up? Or where he's been?"

Steve frowned. "Nothing really. Just what you heard. He was sent to Arendelle from wherever he’s from, he's in exile, and he spent some time on a farm, adjusting to modern Earth. And he visited Sokovia to attack some sort of Hydra remnant there, and I gather something awful happened.”

She leaned closer and explained, "No. Hydra attacked him. He was sent here to Earth with most of his powers bound for some reason he won’t talk about. A remnant of Hydra, including a few who had infiltrated SHIELD, found out he was back and they captured and tortured him. They broke his fingers and cut him open." She gestured a slash across her abdomen. She thought of what else she knew that they had done and decided to keep that to herself. That was for Loki to tell or Steve to guess, not her to reveal. "Because he didn't have his super-healing when we rescued him, if not for their mother’s skill at surgery, he probably would have died. He had to recover at a safe house in the country for a while. He’s had his powers back and fully healed for a week.”

"Oh." Steve thumped back in the seat, horrified. "God, he was hurt again. But he's fine now?" He took back the question immediately, waving a hand, "Physically, I mean."

She nodded confirmation. "Yes. Physically, he's restored. Mentally? Much less so." She gestured, flicking her fingers to follow in Lukas’ direction, since that had been a fine example of his unsteady mental state.

Steve nodded, sadly. "So that's why he didn't sleep. Not that I sleep well either, but I don’t think he slept in the apartment." His eyes flicked in the direction Lukas had gone. "God. That's terrible. I'm surprised he came back to Earth at all after last time, and then it happens again? No wonder." He leaned forward, holding out his hands toward her in a gesture of invitation and openness. “What do we do? To help him?”

She wanted to tell him that he should probably get his own help, since he had at least as much to deal with than Lukas did, but she couldn’t say it. Lukas was coping by helping Steve, and clearly Steve wanted to do the same for him. Since she was the last person who had any standing to complain about someone wanting to cope by doing something, she made a little smile of understanding. “I have a friend at SHIELD who’s looking into a doctor who can help.”

Steve lifted his eyerbows, skeptical of this idea. “You think Lukas would try it?”

“We’ll see. If we can find the right person.” She thought getting Lukas to try it probably wouldn’t be difficult; he knew he had a problem. But getting him to stay in treatment, especially if he didn’t feel better right away, would probably be more of a struggle. Hopefully whoever Maria thought of would have a lot of patience. “You could talk to someone, too.”

Steve shrugged. “I have Bucky and Peggy, and Lukas. And you,” he added with a smile, tapping the table in front of her. “You’re a good listener, Natasha.”

“That’s what I do,” she answered with an easy smile. It was true, after all – interrogations were almost entirely listening. It was an easy skill to use on her friends, too. “But listening only goes so far with Lukas, I think. And maybe for you, too. It wouldn’t hurt to have a professional help you, even if they’ve never dealt with a case exactly like yours.”

“I’ll think about it,” he answered, and she valiantly held back an eyeroll, knowing that wouldn’t help. They were both so stubborn, it was maddening.

She nodded. “Anyway, I had another idea. The one place Lukas feels most at home is Arendelle. When I was researching my mission on the way to meet him originally, I found a rumor of a creature up in the mountains there.”

Steve frowned. “Isn’t that him? The Ice Demon story?”

“Probably. But maybe not. There was a Facebook post that got passed around of someone getting attacked in the winter by some sort of yeti, and that couldn’t be him, since he wasn’t on Earth last year. So I sold Director Fury the idea of a mission for us to investigate. It’ll help Lukas feel better to be home, I think.”

She had also sold it to Fury as a way to ease Steve back into fighting trim and get him to bond with her and Lukas, so he’d be more willing to join the Initiative project. But she kept that part to herself.

“What about them?” Steve asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the Maximoffs.

“I’ll have SHIELD take them to the Triskelion. I doubt Lukas will want--”

He interrupted, “No, I meant, they’re family; they mean a lot to him.”

“Yes...” she agreed, a bit wary, since she wasn’t sure what conclusion he was heading for. “He lost his Arendelle family long ago, and recently broke off relations with his Asgard family, except his brother, so he’s feeling alone.”

“Right,” Steve agreed. “So, what about that Erik they mentioned? Can SHIELD find him?”

Natasha was tempted. Steve was right, since Loki would love to know another relative’s whereabouts. But she had to purse her lips and shake her head. “He wouldn’t want SHIELD to know he exists.”

Steve nodded, grimly accepting that was true. “Especially if he has powers.”

“Exactly. Lukas doesn’t trust SHIELD right now, and to be honest, we don’t know if there are more Hydra plants in the organization,” she admitted. “Commander Hill’s been tasked with the investigation and I trust her, but the list of other people I trust isn’t very long right now.”

Steve gave a soft sigh and sipped at his coffee. “I’ll ask Bucky and Peggy at least. From what they’ve said about taking down Hydra cells after the war, they might have some info on this guy. Or know of some records to look in, at least. That wouldn’t tell us where he is now, but might give us more to work with.”

“All right, that sounds like a plan. You go visit them. I’ll question our young recruits over there again and text you if I find anything new,” she agreed. “I’ll keep an eye out for Lukas, when he comes back.”

Steve stood up, said goodbye and headed for the front doors of the hotel. Natasha smiled, glad he had something to think about. And maybe Barnes and Carter would actually know something.

She texted Lukas “are you ok?” to make sure he’d know she was concerned though she didn’t expect a quick response, and joined the Maximoffs to dig into their story.

* * *

tbc...


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: as several of you noticed, yes, Erik/Magneto exists in this 'verse, and yes, I'm going with the (now un-) canon that he's Wanda and Pietro's father. In this, Erik and Pietro both LOOK more like their comic book selves than they do any live-action adaptation, since that appearance was what tied them to Elsa in my mind way back when I started this. For now it's just an easter egg, though.

* * *

Mulling over what he’d heard, Steve watched the city pass by the taxi window without much attention. It was terrible to know the truth of what happened, but Steve was still glad to know. Lukas was trying to act normally, but now it was clearer what kind of pain he was in and why he kept avoiding the subject so assiduously.

Approaching the rest home, Steve saw a bright blue van with a radar dish on the top emblazoned with a tv station name. There was another across the street.

“Huh, what’s going on? What’re all the newsies here for?” the taxi driver complained. “Somebody fancy die?”

“I hope not,” Steve murmured, thinking of Peggy inside. Had she got her beautiful time with her family, and now she was gone? No, surely it was something else. Reporters wouldn’t be here for that. Maybe someone else had died, or there’d been a crime nearby?

“Looks like they’re outside where you wanna go, you want me to pull over here?”

“Sure, that’d be fine.” He handed ridiculous amounts of money through the partition and shoved open the door.

The herd up the sidewalk, milling around, looking bored and talking among themselves, turned into a mob the moment someone looked Steve’s way and shouted, “It’s him!”

 _Oh, shit, they know_.

He’d thought he had more time. He’d been warned, but he’d expected that was a vague ‘the public will find out someday’, not ‘there are reporters parked outside a nursing home to ambush him on the way in.’ This was terrible. At least, thank God, Lukas wasn’t with him right now.

For a moment, watching the eager group rush toward him, cameras at the ready, he wondered if he could get away with saying he was someone else. He didn’t want to lie, but he also had no desire to give one of these sharks the time of day.

His phone buzzed with a text and he took it out to see Natasha: _news broke about you, nurse on TV right now_.

He had to laugh at her timing and put the phone back, as the first reporter came up. The attractive brunette woman asked breathlessly, “Captain Rogers? Are you really Captain Rogers? Captain America? How are you alive and so-- so --” she fumbled for the word, her eyes drinking him in blatantly, until her voice spat out, “Not dead?” Then she shoved the microphone at him.

He said nothing, waiting until more reporters crowded around, bright lights in his eyes. All of them were shouting questions, until he raised a hand and they fell silent as if the Pope was about to speak. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I am Steve Rogers. I’m alive because I was in suspended animation – hibernation – in the Arctic ice. SHIELD recently found me there and brought me back. And I’m here to see some old friends. And that’s all I want to say about it, except to ask you to give all of us our privacy right now. Thank you.”

He started forward, urging the reporters to give way, even as they shouted other questions at him, none of it distinguishable until someone asked, “Is it true that the Ice Demon was also here and miraculously healed one of the patients?”

That struck him and he turned to confront the male reporter who’d asked. “Peggy Carter-Barnes, former director of SHIELD, is my friend, not just ‘one of the patients.’ She’s over ninety years old and had an… improvement, but miracle is an exaggeration.” He felt awful for denying it was a miracle, but he knew Lukas wouldn’t want him to make too much of it.

The man smirked a bit. “So the Ice Demon _was_ here?”

Steve glowered at him. “You’ll have to ask someone else. Now, excuse me, I need to pass.”

He pushed his way through the rest, ignoring anything else they said. Kicking himself for not telling the taxi to keep going, he reached the gate, where several security guards were now standing across the entry.

They let him in and one of the guards asked, sounding unimpressed, “This is all for you?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Crazy world. Go on up.”

Bucky was waiting in the front hall. Steve thought it was strange he hadn’t come outside and realized it was to avoid photographs. “Oh, man, I’m sorry about the circus, Buck.”

Bucky raised his brows. “Did I see you actually talk to them? Big mistake, pal. They’ll be all over you forever.”

“What could I say? I couldn’t say I’m not me.”

“Well, you _could_ , but I guess you wouldn’t be you if you did. Well, better you than me, I guess. I made sure the home won’t say anything, so hopefully it blows over, even if that nurse is now gonna make the talk show circuit for a week,” Bucky muttered. “C’mon back to Peggy, and we’ll all talk.”

In Peggy’s room, she was sitting in the armchair by the window, with her feet up and a blanket over her legs. Steve smiled to see her out of bed, his smile widening in greeting as she turned her head to see them come in. As Bucky closed the door behind them, Steve went to kiss her cheek. “You look beautiful.”

“Such a flatterer,” she answered, but she smiled back, and Steve was pleased.

Bucky perched on the edge of her bed, while Steve pulled the small chair over.

“This moron,” Bucky told her, “was outside talking to TZM, of all damn fool things.”

“Steve. The media is a tool, not your ally.” Peggy shook her head and waved her fingers. “Never mind, the genie’s out of the bottle. We deal with it.”

Steve grimaced and confessed, “I was stupid. They mentioned Lukas and I think I gave it away he was involved, too.”

Bucky and Peggy exchanged a wordless look that Steve ached to see – there was so _much_ there, levels of understanding and knowledge, that Steve hadn’t had.

“He should stay away then,” Bucky said.

Peggy nodded her head a little, thin silvery-white hair bouncing. “You can handle media attention. I don’t know if he can.”

Bucky tooked at Steve and explained, “What Peggy saw wasn’t a memory of Austria like he said. It was recent.”

“Yeah, I just heard. He lied to us.”

“To protect himself,” Peggy corrected, and she looked sad, gazing out at the garden. “Strucker. I told the CIA the whole family was dirty, but they didn’t care; they used the father to smuggle behind the Iron Curtain. But even so, I never imagined they were Hydra. Or they would stoop to torture and medical experimentation. Or, to be fair,” she let out a sigh, and glanced at Bucky, “that our own organization could be infiltrated.”

He took her hand and held it. “It’s not your fault, sweetheart. They came in after we left.”

“We don’t know that,” she corrected. “Those traitors came in after we left, but that’s all we know.”

Steve wondered how they knew anything, being retired, but recalled Bucky mentioning they heard the gossip. And perhaps Fury had briefed them. But this was turning into them thinking it was their fault, and he wanted to shift the subject.

“Sokovia is one reason I came, actually,” Steve said. “I found out because Lukas met the Maximoff siblings, the two kids who helped Romanoff rescue him.” He glanced at the door to make sure it was closed. “They also found out they’re related. Lukas said he could sense their blood connection.” He didn’t mean for it to trail upward in doubt, but Bucky nodded confirmation.

“He said he could do that with Queen Birgitte of Arendelle.”

“Huh. Well, anyway, the point is, the Maximoffs said their father had claimed to be a prisoner of the Germans in the war. And he possiby had a superhuman power. He left the family when they were young, so he was alive at least until the 1990’s. His name was Erik something, not Maximoff. They don’t know his last name, but he looked like Pietro with blue eyes and white-blond hair. Either of you remember anything about that?”

They exchanged another look and Bucky shook his head. “Not that I can think of. That’s not much to go on though.”

“We obtained a lot of Hydra files,” Peggy said. “There might be something in there. Although the Soviets took a lot, too.”

“Russians, hon,” Bucky corrected absently. “We should ask Sharon, you think?” he asked Peggy.

“Lukas wouldn’t want any strangers--” Steve objected.

Bucky chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. “She’s not a stranger. Sharon’s the only one of our family to go into SHIELD. She’s Peggy’s grand-niece.”

“But--” Steve started. “I wouldn’t want her to get into trouble--”

Peggy gave a dry laugh. “It’d do her good to get in a bit of trouble. Hill and Fury put her on the team yesterday to investigate the traitors. So she’s already got a reason to poke into old files on Hydra. And she’s smart enough to keep it to herself.”

“Ah, that’s how you know everything,” Steve realized.

“Most,” Bucky said. “Sharon tells me – us – a lot. But Fury talks, too; gives me the official line.”

“Is he a good guy?” Steve asked. “He’s been all right with me, but Lukas thinks he’s a … well, I’m not sure what he thinks Fury is, but doesn’t trust him. I don’t know if there’s any particular reason for it, though, other than the organization having too many traitors willing to torture a helpless prisoner. What kind of people was he hiring, that evil like that gets in?” He realized who he was speaking to, and grimaced in apology. “I didn’t mean to attack you, I’m sorry--”

Bucky waved that away. “It’s a fair question, and one I’ve tried to figure out myself. Peggy’s right; we can’t be sure we didn’t hire any Hydra agents, either. Not when we were sure they were all but extinct.” He paused, furrowed brow getting deeper lines as he pondered. “Nick has good intentions, I believe that. But like many spies, he has a problem sharing information, and he shades the truth like breathing. So,” he shrugged, “trust his intenions, but don’t trust he’s telling you everything. His agenda isn’t always yours.”

That fit Steve’s impression, and he nodded. “So it’s not being paraniod to want to keep this Erik out of his view?”

“Maybe a little,” Bucky said, with a twist of his lips of amusement. “But I think Lukas deserves his paranoia. If Erik does have powers, he’s kept a low profile and I’m sure he’d like to keep it that way.”

“There were always hints,” Peggy added, her thin fingers twisting in the blanket on her lap. “Rumors that you and Lukas weren’t the only ones with powers out there. The Soviets were desperate for their own supersoldier, of course, and they stole everything they could get their hands on. They produced that girl, your friend Romanoff, and girls like her, among others. But I would guess while we were focused on the Soviets, it was easy for some individuals to fall through the cracks.”

“Especially if he didn’t want to be found,” Bucky said. “Let me call Sharon and have her visit after work and we’ll tell her. Hopefully the vultures outside are gone by then, or we might have to meet somewhere else.”

“You should go to Lukas,” Peggy told him. “With Sharon and Lucy. No one will think anything of it.” Her smile grew bright with mischief. “The best kind of secret meeting is the one everyone sees.”

“Not today,” Steve said. “He was upset when we were talking about the Winter Angel movie and took off. I don’t know when he’s coming back. Or if he’s coming back,” he amended. “He was upset.”

“He’ll come back,” Peggy reassured him. “There’s no where else he wants to be.”

Since she’d had a peek at Lukas’ thoughts, Steve had to believe her, but as the afternoon turned to evening without a word, Steve grew worried that she’d misjudged and Lukas had left for good.

* * *

She was proven right later that evening, when Steve was sketching a portrait of Peggy on hotel stationery and someone knocked on his door. He flipped the picture over and went to answer it.

To his surprise, Lukas stood there. He wasn’t looking at Steve, eyes downcast, and there was something weary in his posture that he belatedly tried to straighten as the door opened.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. Then realized he was being rude making Lukas stand in the hall. “Do you want to come in?”

Lukas slipped past him inside, and Steve shut the door. “I wasn’t sure you’d be back. Where did you go?”

His tone was light and dry, even his expression seemed to match. “Nowhere. I walked the city. I stopped a robbery, freed some monkeys from the zoo, and had a young man attempt to teach me basketball. Nobody died, so I suppose it was a success.” He paused, as if expected Steve to ask about the monkeys, but Steve wasn’t interested in being diverted. As Steve let the silence draw out, not playing along, Lukas let the bemusement evaporate from his expresson, and without looking directly at Steve, said more flatly, “They told you.”

“Natasha did.” Steve intended to say more, but Lukas didn’t let him, speaking in a rather dead tone of voice and staring towards the television as if he didn’t have the will to pretend anymore, now that Steve knew the truth.

“I knew you would find out – too many people knew – but I just wish I could’ve spared you a bit longer.”

“ _Spared_ me?” Steve exclaimed, incredulous at that. “I don’t want to be spared.”

Lukas shrugged. “There was nothing you could have done. There’s nothing you can do now either, and you have enough to carry right now, without learning about this, too.”

Steve could see what he was trying to do, but shook his head. “I can’t do anything about what happened, no. And I get that you’re trying to protect me in your own special way, but it’s not true I can’t help. I can help by being your friend, if you let me. And if you don’t hide shit for my own good.”

“All right.”

Steve had to raise his brows at that abrupt capitulation. Lukas’ lips twisted in a faint wry smile. “Not here to argue, Steven.”

“Well, good. You want to sit? We can talk about it, if you want. Or not. I know you weren’t big on sharing before.” That was something of an understatement, since Steve had been finding out how little Lukas had told him during the war.

“We could talk of other things.”

Which Steve figured meant Lukas didn’t want to be alone, and gestured to the bed or the single armchair by the window. “Have a seat. We can talk about whatever you like. Or just watch TV and drink the little bottles in the refrigerator.”

“On Fury’s dime?” Lukas asked, heading for the armchair, and smirking. “Apparently I’ve corrupted you. I like it.”

Reaching for the the minibar door, Steve paused – the contents were terribly expensive, and it wasn’t just his 1940’s sense of money which told him that, and since drink was wasted on both of them it was even more overpriced – but then he thought about how Lukas had walked right out of the hotel, blank-eyed from the reminder of what he’d suffered. He thought of himself, transported to the future, and he grabbed two of the small bottles. “We deserve it, I say. They can bill my nearly seventy years of backpay if they want.”

“Knowing bureaucrats, they probably will.” Lukas held out his tiny bottle to touch Steve’s to toast. “To the future.”

“Hopefully we see it the ordinary way.”

It was only one swallow, briefly warm in the stomach, and then gone. “I think we need another one,” Lukas suggested, tossing the bottle into the trash.

No minibar bottles were safe that night, including the ones from Lukas’ room hauled from next door in the ice buckets. Not drunk, but mellow by the drink and the late hour, Lukas ended up flat on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, while Steve sat slumped against the headboard. The television was playing a movie that Steve would be more interested in if they hadn’t chopped it up with fifteen commercials every ten minutes, so he muted it.

As the silence lingered, Lukas murmured, “I never wanted to lie to you, it’s just… some things are hard to talk about.”

Steve glanced at him. Lukas’ eyes were closed, his hands folded together around an empty bottle of whiskey across his stomach. If this was Lukas starting to talk, Steve had to be careful. “I’m sure. But I’ll listen.”

Lukas shook his head once. “Natasha told you what happened. There’s nothing more to say. I just seem to be reacting badly to it.”

“Seems to me you’re just reacting,” Steve corrected and wriggled himself down the bed next to Lukas, trying to be close enough to be comforting without touching him. “There’s no good or bad about it. But I do think you’re not seeing they’re different.”

“I know they’re different. Sokovia was mere days. It was nothing.” He lifted only his fingers to flick them in dismissal.

“It wasn’t nothing.”

Lukas snorted. “It was. They did the same Zola and Schmidt did before and worse. They were children playing at it.”

Besides the obvious truth that it was not ‘nothing’, Lukas was missing the point. Steve shook his head. “But you didn’t have your healing, Natasha said. Before, Schmidt and Zola, they hurt you more and for a long time, but you knew you’d heal. You knew you wouldn’t die, so there was hope you could escape or it would end some other way. Which it did. But without your powers, you didn’t know any of those things. That was different.”

Either too lost in memory or pondering what Steve had said, Lukas didn’t respond at first, except to rub his inner wrist with the opposite thumb. When he did speak, it was in a murmur so soft Steve nearly missed it. “Before, I knew what was happening, but it felt more…distant.”

Steve remembered that first meeting and Lukas telling him to remove the tube that was drugging him. He was about to suggest that was why Lukas could handle it better, when Lukas gave a dry laugh. “I should have thanked Zola for poisoning me into numbness, before I broke his neck. I did kill him, you know.”

“I suspected you did, somehow.”

But Lukas wasn’t listening, caught up in his memory. “Thor killed Strucker. I wish he hadn’t, so I could. I know that shocks you. Because you’re a good man, Steven. But I’m not. I want to kill him, I want to tear a hole in his chest and watch him die, but he’s dead. They’re all dead, and that should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.” He hurled the tiny bottle into the wall hard enough it broke a chunk of plaster off.

“Hey.” Figuring that was enough talk about horrible things, Steve took a hold of that hand and drew it away between them. “You’re safe here, I promise. Lukas, do you hear me? I will never let anyone do that to you again.”

Lukas took a moment to answer, lips quivering before he managed to speak, “I know. And I promise the same to you.” His hand clenched to a fist, pressed against the sheet. “I will kill all of them who threaten us. All of them.”

The frightening part of what he said weren’t his words; it was the flatness of his voice that gave the promise. It was cold, implacable, and inhuman in his willingness to fulfill it. Steve knew there was no sense in reasoning with him, only in trying to ease the fears driving that rage, so he renewed his grip, wrapping his hand around Lukas’ fist, and said, “You won’t need to. We’re safe.”

Very slightly, Lukas nodded, and more importantly, his hand relaxed. At first he let his hand rest beneath Steve’s, not minding the touch enough to pull away. But as Steve dozed off, he felt long fingers nudge their way between Steve’s and curl inward, to hold his hand more definitively. It could’ve been Lukas drifting off to sleep, clutching whatever he happened to be touching, but Steve smiled to himself and didn’t move away. The touch anchored them both, and nightmares passed them by.

 

* * *

..tbc... 


	11. Chapter 11

Loki woke all at once, aware he wasn’t alone. Sitting up, he extended a hand, power called defensively. Belatedly he realized this was Steve’s room and the other person was Steve, pulling a T-shirt on.

“Whoa there.” Steve stepped back, banging into the dresser behind him. “I bumped the bed, sorry.”

Lowering his arm, Loki released the power and tried a smile. “Alas for the furniture in the morning.” It was amusing when Steve had to turn to check that the dresser wasn’t damaged.

Rolling his eyes at Loki’s amusement, Steve said, “I’m going for a run. You want to join me? We can go down to the Mall, check out the monuments to people you knew.”

“I never met Lincoln,” Loki corrected, swinging himself up to his feet. “Only Washington and Jefferson.”

“’Only’,” Steve repeated and shook his head. “Come on, let’s go. And no beating up muggers this time.”

“Oh, as if you were not the first to go after the muggers. Please,” Loki scoffed. Then, to see Steve’s reaction, Loki shifted his clothes to match what Steve was wearing.

Steve’s eyes widened and his jaw loosened. “Wow. That’s… Is it real?” His fingers touched the fabric of the T-shirt at Loki’s shoulder. Then he chuckled. “I can’t get a big head with you around, can I? Come on, Ice Demon, let’s see who touches the Washington Monument first.”

“Obviously it will be me,” Loki declared, as they moved into the hall and the door closed behind them. Steve pocketed the keycard. “I always win.”

“You cheat.”

“So much whining, so little winning,” Loki taunted, unrepetant.

Steve mock glared at him, hands on his hips, and didn’t seem to realize what he looked like in that pose. Loki had to bite his inner lip and remind himself that he had slept in the same bed with that and done nothing, so it was a bit late to be thinking those thoughts.

Steve challenged, “Now you’ve done it. Ready? Go!”

There was something freeing about running for no particular purpose, only the challenge of it. Unlike their “race” in unfamiliar terrain in the snow, here they were on the street and slowed only by traffic. Steve hesitated when the light turned against them, but Loki laughed and launched himself into the traffic.

“Are you crazy!” Steve yelled, but came after him.

“Are we racing, or strolling, Captain Sloth?” Loki tossed over his shoulder and ran. He was a little surprised they didn’t gather any police attention being so careless with the traffic, but luckily cars were very slow in their way and easy to avoid.

But Loki was annoyed to realize that Steve wasn’t tiring nearly as quickly as Loki was. He was mortal, and it was rather intolerable to lose to him, even if he had been altered into superhuman. Loki formed the spell to open the paths and move ahead, but let the threads go, unused.

Steve was first across the avenue toward the park and Loki dashed across after him, vaulting on top someone’s black sedan and jumping to the roof of the taxi next to it on the inner lane. He heard a child yell something excited – knowing he was being watched, Loki flipped off the taxi to the sidewalk.

He landed well, but the sudden halt of momentum cost him time, so he cut across the grass, while Steve was following the paths. Steve noticed what he was doing and went straight for the monument, too, and Loki poured on the speed, trying to beat him.

Steve was two paces ahead when he leaped the low chain surrounding the plaza, and Loki grit his teeth to make the jump himself. On his landing, an uneven paving stone caught his foot and he swore as he stumbled, and by the time he got his balance, Steve already had a hand on the white stone of the obelisk. Loki fetched up next to him, leaning against the shaded stone and panting. “Damn. Foiled in the last five seconds.”

Clapping him on the back, Steve said, “It was a good run.”

It was disgusting how he seemed barely affected by their race; a bit sweaty but mostly as fresh as if he’d walked to the corner and back. Loki thought longingly of someplace cold, rather than this unseasonable warmth. He tilted his head back against the cool stone and looked at the vertical height of the monument. He thought the general would probably not like this monument at all, but at least it wasn’t awful and it gave him the proper honor.

“You want to run back?”

He snorted, and was about to say they should find one of the vendors and get a bottle of water, but noticed two uniformed police officers heading their way. “It appears our stunt has drawn attention. We should go.”

“We didn’t do anything--”

“Steven, come.” Loki led the way, circling the monument, and when they were out of sight of the police, he grabbed Steve’s shoulder and cast the way to shift to another path.

As soon as the green glow expanded and fell around them, the sky turned a strange flat orange, bright enough to see well but without shadow. There were no humans visible, a few tumbled shells of buildings overgrown, and mostly a wilderness of scrubby trees and stagnant ponds.

“What the – what the hell did you do?” Steve demanded.

“We won’t stay long, just enough to avoid the police. I am not in the mood to deal with them.”

“Where are we?” Steve turned around and when he gave a soft gasp of dismay, Loki turned to see only the bottom quarter of what had once been the monument, its upper length shattered on the ground and overgrown. That was interesting, as the monument was not that old as even humans reckoned and he’d had an easy shift to this reality suggesting the timeline was closely related, and yet it seemed very different.

“Is this the future?” Steve asked, voice low in dismay as he stared at the fallen obelisk.

“No. I shifted us to a different version of the city. History happened differently here. Something ruinous it appears.” Loki scanned around them again, wary but intrigued. “I wonder....” He had a sudden thought and turned to Steve, with a smile, “Would you like to have an adventure? We could poke around in the ruins and find out what happened?”

“Is it dangerous?” Steve asked.

“Steven, we are gods. Or near enough. We can handle a little danger,” Loki said impatiently.

But Steve shook his head, looking skeptical. “I think we should go back.”

“Why?” Loki protested. “It’s so boring. Don’t you want to have some fun? See what’s here? We can explore.”

But it seemed the more he tried to cajole Steve, the less willing Steve became, as a frown grew on his face and his gaze hit a little too deeply for Loki’s comfort. “No, that sounds risky.”

“Well, of course it’s risky! That’s what makes it an adventure.” But he could see he wasn’t convincing Steve, at all, and gave in with an exasperated groan. “Norns, I thought humans were less dull.”

“Some of us want to protect our friends.” Steve curled a hand over Loki’s shoulder, making it clear he meant Loki himself. “You don’t have to take foolish risks just to prove you can, you know.”

Loki shook him off. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He judged the distance back to the monument and figured they’d be at least somewhat obscured by trees as they returned to Midgard. Annoyed, he used the seidr more as a knife and cut open the boundary with a sharp gesture. “Fine. Go.” He held open the door and let it shut just behind Steve’s boots, so the air displacement ruffled his hair and made him jump a little. “We’re back.”

All around, the trees of the park and the Monument were all back as they were supposed to be, though Loki noticed the angle of the sun had changed more than he had expected. He’d been careless on the return, apparently.

Well, no harm, no foul, as the mortals said. They were home again, without adventure, so he had to settle for the ordinary.

* * *

Natasha was waiting for them in the lobby, arms folded and a baleful look in her eyes.

Loki greeted her cheerfully, even though she was not pleased about something. “Good morning, Natalya. Or is it afternoon already? We were gone a little longer than I expected.”

She started without preamble, “There’s a video going viral already of _someone_ running on top of moving cars.”

Loki smirked at her. “And flipping off them? Because that was a wasted move if no one filmed it.”

She was not amused. “I thought you were trying to keep a low profile, not make a spectacle of yourselves.”

“We were racing. It was Steven’s idea,” Loki said and slipped past while Steve was sputtering his outrage. “Do I get paid for this video? It’s my trick, I should get a portion. Perhaps I should set up my own--” His voice stopped as a pale-haired head came into view above the divider in the seating area.

Both Wanda and Pietro stepped out into his view, and Loki glanced at Natasha, wondering why she hadn’t told him.

“If you had answered your phone, you’d know they were waiting for you,” she answered.

He wanted to retort that he’d been in a different dimension how was he supposed to answer his phone, but that didn’t matter when the Maximoffs were here. He went to meet them.

“We return,” Wanda said with a glance to her brother of confirmation, “to ask you to teach us.”

Despite expecting that would be their decision, Loki found he wasn’t sure how to answer them today. “I would like that,” he started. He glanced down, catching himself rubbing his left wrist with his thumb and forced himself to lower his hands. “But,” he cleared his throat to get the rest out, “after yesterday, I think I would be a poor teacher. I am… not stable,” he added with a bark of a laugh, because he wasn’t sure he had ever been stable, but he certainly wasn’t now.

Wanda’s small hand took his. “Forefather,” she said. “We know.”

He stilled. She used the Sokovian word for paternal relatives beyond grandfather, a term more familial than ‘ancestor’. “Forefather,” he repeated, voice hoarsening, “I like that.”

“You are family,” Pietro confirmed. “We want nothing that troubles you. Only as much as you offer.”

“And not today,” Wanda said taking his hand between both of hers. “When you are ready.”

The echo of the bond hummed through his blood, reminding him of peaceful bettr times. The feeling calmed him, making him aware of how on edge he’d been, only after those ragged ends were soothed.

He lifted their joined hands and found a smile for her. “This helps me feel better. Perhaps teaching you is what I need to do,” he said. “Let us head somewhere with open space and see what we might achieve together.”

Wanda’s brilliant smile made him glad he’d made the offer. He wasn’t sure _how_ to begin teaching them – Elsa had been easy because she’d already had her powers and his aim had only been to help her control them better and keep from using the tesseract. Wanda and Pietro both had potential, he knew that much, but unlocking it was new. Perhaps he could use the remnants of Odin’s spell to bind his powers to figure out how he could unbind…

If that didn’t suffice, he could bring the twins to the dragon Svafnir. Introducing them as his family would protect them and perhaps she could help unlock their powers. And if not that, there were the Archives on Asgard. He could sneak in, borrow some tomes, and be gone again before seeing anyone.

Strange how the temptation to believe that was the best option seemed to glow in reach, wanting him to go back. He shoved it down with the reminder that he had no desire to see anybody or any part of Asgard. They’d proven themselves false, and he was done.

He glanced at Wanda and Pietro as they walked outside, and was glad for new family. He needed Asgard even less now that he’d found these descendants.

Steve and Natasha tagged along, and they ended up in a small park down the street. It seemed mostly unused, with scarce greenery and a broken swing. But there was a picnic table of metal mesh and four stools, and he took one, gesturing Wanda and Pietro to take the other seats. “I think we will start with something simple, and I will teach you to focus.” That much he’d taught Elsa, so it was familiar ground. “Though similar to the Midgardian practice of meditation, its purpose is to bring you into awareness of your powers. Once you know how, you will be able to keep it all the time,” he held out his hand and called green fire to his cupped palm, wary of pedestrians and anyone who might be peeking out windows. Both Maximoffs’ eyes widened at the sight.

“Without conscious thought,” Loki added. “It will become a part of you, like breathing.” He closed his hand again, extinguishing the fire. “Once you both can focus, I hope to be able to see more easily how to open your abilities.”

The metal stools were not comfortable at all, and holding out a hand for each of them to take, made him anxious about who might come upon them while they were vulnerable. But he raised his eyes to Natasha, standing next to the fourth stool, and she nodded slightly, confirming she would keep watch.

That let him relax and close his eyes, letting himself fall into the familial connection and reach for them. Only partly there, the connection abruptly strengthened, a reddish glow suffusing the bond and he found himself pulled closer to Wanda. Fledgling but strong powers surged outward, engulfing him, and he tried to pull free but it was too late.

He was already… elsewhere.

The laboratory where he had been kept by Schmidt and Zola. Pinned to the table, drugged and poisoned to keep him groggy and weak but still all-too aware of what was happening…

... _no, no, I don’t want to be here…_

Mercifully it changed, and now he was standing in that same room, looking at himself with Wanda beside him.

Her eyes were too big with horror and she shook her head in distress, “No, I didn’t want this. I didn’t mean to see this… I’m so sorry… I’ll make it better, I will.” She flung out her hands and a ruby glow covered everything, until when he saw again, he was in a different memory.

… he was holding the hands of Elsa’s daughter, a little blonde girl in pigtails and a short dress, and they were dancing together in the hall of Arendelle.… She was laughing and called him _morfar_ , and for a moment, it was perfect, a joyful memory of better times...

Except it had never happened. He’d only ever seen Elsa’s daughter as a baby; he’d never danced with Princess Birgitte, not in life, only in dreams. This ‘memory’ was a lie. The pain of that realization gave him the strength to tear himself free.

Panting for breath, he stared into Wanda’s face, fists clenching with a desire to call a weapon for doing that to him, before he stood and rushed to the edge of the path.

“I do not know what happened!” she called after him. “I am sorry, I meant no invasion, no connection like that-- “

Panting for breath, he sought calm, closing his eyes and controlling his breathing.

“What-- what happened?” Pietro asked. “I felt… pain? But nothing more.”

“I… intruded,” Wanda explained. “The connection grew strong, and when I tried to make it better--”

“It was _false_ ,” he snarled, turning to confront her. “You tried to force a memory you made on me.”

Wanda shook her head urgently. “No, no, I created nothing. I know that. I only reached for something happy; it was from you, not from me.”

“It wasn’t real.”

“I didn’t know it was a dream!” she protested. “It seemed true.”

“Well, it wasn’t.” He clenched his jaw and glowered at her. “I cannot teach you if the first thing you do is invade my mind. There are places you should not go in there, and I will not have you poking in it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and looked down, miserable. “I meant-- only to help.”

Natasha spoke then, in a reasonable tone that he couldn’t ignore. “Lukas, it happened because she’s untrained. Train her, and she’ll control it.”

He rubbed at his face and turned away, unsure he could deal with this right now. Seeing that Hydra laboratory again in his mind made him feel jittery, his mind and emotions unbalanced.

Wanda’s soft footsteps approached and she swallowed, before whispering, “I saw your memory. I felt…. No one should suffer like that.”

“You shouldn’t have touched it,” he bit out through his teeth, trying very hard not to lash out at her.

“I know,” she said. “You should teach Pietro first. Help him find his power. I know mine.”

That offer made his heart twist with shame. She was being kind to him, as if he was some sort of invalid. And it was loathesome to be so weak some mortal girl had to take _pity_ on him.

He inhaled a breath, reminding himself the whole point of this was to try to teach them focus. He should probably demonstrate his own, in that case. Focus, self-control… he could do this.

“No,” he said abruptly and turned back, smile fixed. “That isn’t necessary. You took me by surprise, but now I am prepared. But in fact I should train you first, your powers are already straining to escape and you need to control them, sooner not later.” He glimpsed the disappointment fall over Pietro’s face before he glanced away, and Loki saw himself in the reaction, overshadowed by his more powerful sibling. “But we will unlock your power, as well, Pietro. I know it exists, I feel it in you.”

Pietro pretended that it didn’t matter, shrugging. “I am curious. But I have lived this long without it.”

“Come.” Loki beckoned him back to the table for them to try again.

Taking their hands, he closed his eyes. This time, Wanda was holding back, even her fingers in his were trying to pull away from him. “Relax, both of you,” he murmured. “Picture yourself in the middle of a meadow of snow. It is quiet and calm, undisturbed. It is night above, and the moon shines upon the snow. Concentrate on that image. It is cold and clear, and there is no one near you.”

Gradually he guided them to calm, and when they were both more relaxed, he touched the blood bond between them gingerly. Loki had a stronger sense of Pietro’s power, but it was quiet, like a lamp beneath ice-- he could see the glow, but there seemed no path to it. Turning to the other twin and knowing what to expect with Wanda this time, he was better prepared to hold himself apart from her power as it unfurled. When he thought he was ready, in the pause between breaths, he touched it and when it sought to engulf him again, he shoved it back at her.

His eyes opened as she pulled her hands from his, her fingers glowing with raw _seidr_ , like scarlet threads twined around her hand, before it winked out. She stared aghast at her hands before raising her gaze to his. “What was that?”

“That, dear Wanda, was power.” He shook his head in slow amazement. “I never expected to see that from a mortal again, and not in one whose blood is dilute. Perhaps there’s more about you than I know.” He frowned, curious, whether they got it from two sides, or their father had been experimented upon, or perhaps something else. “Interesting. But I suppose something to research later.” He turned to Pietro, who bounced his leg as he waited. “Did you sense it? Your own power?”

Pietro shook his head then reconsidered. “I think so? I felt something.”

“Yes, it’s there. Strong also, but we will need to work on opening the way. But,” he glanced at the girl with the long hair and pretty but very worried eyes, and smiled at her, hoping he could be reassuring, “first, I think I should help you learn some basic control so you do nothing you regret by mistake.”

She set both hands in his and Loki closed his eyes. Her psychic ability meant he had to work to keep her back, but it also meant he could teach her mind-to-mind. She was eager and quick, learning as fast as he could show her the basics. Focus, access, control – the three fundamentals that would keep her from using her power by accident now that it had cracked open – she took it all, understood it, and wanted more.

It was a connection that felt so perfect, he didn’t want to stop.

* * *

tbc...


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

Natasha kept an eye on the training session, but mostly watched the others. Steve seemed fascinated, though there was little to see except Lukas and Wanda holding hands. Pietro was soon bored, not being part of the session, and stood up to wander to the broken metal gate of the park. There was no one else in view.

She went to talk to him, keeping her voice low to not disturb them at the table, and using Sokovian so he would feel more comfortable, she asked, “How are you feeling?”

He shrugged, big shoulders in his tight jumper that was clearly of European design. “It was nothing. It felt strange briefly, but that was all. Nothing like Wanda’s.”

“You’ll get there. If you want to.”

He glanced at her, bright blue eyes surprised by the implication that he didn’t want to. “I want to help. I want to learn what I can do. But Wanda was always the one with a gift, not me. It seems strange to think I can be like them,” he gestured toward his sister and Lukas.

“Just… keep it to yourself,” Natasha warned him. “You know what happened to Lukas. Hydra isn’t the only threat to people with superhuman powers either. And watch over your sister.”

“I always do,” he promised. He glanced back at them, as if he’d heard or felt something strange, and narrowed his eyes. “Wanda? Wanda, no!”

She turned to see what was wrong, and was only a little slower than Pietro rushing back to the table. The scarlet threads twined around her hands, which were held up between her and Lukas, and it seemed clear that she was pulling something from him. Wanda’s eyes were closed, while his were open. They were also odd – the irises were red and glowing, staring into the fire she had created. His lips were parted and his expression was strangely rapt, though his hands showed some distress, pressing flat on the table.

“No, Wanda, stop!” Pietro said loudly and grabbed her shoulders to shake her. Natasha lunged at him to stop him, but too late-- the red energy exploded outward.

Natasha tried to duck, but was still hurled off her feet and into the hedge lining the path. Forcing herself back to her feet to check on the others, she gaped – half the table and one entire stool were simply gone, as if melted. Lukas was on the ground, while Wanda was still sitting on the metal stool but her eyes blinked and went wide with distress as she understood what had happened.

In horror she looked at her hands and where the table should have been. “No, no, I – please, no.” She flung herself down to Lukas’ side where thankfully he stirred. “Please be okay,” she whispered and covered her mouth with one hand, while she looked near crying.

“Are you both all right?” Steve asked.

Lukas opened his eyes, which were back to normal. He looked up at Wanda, and a smile grew on his face. “You are powerful, little one.”

“I’m dangerous.” She looked at her hands as if she might want to chop them off if she could.

“So am I,” he returned, with a shrug, as he sat up. When he saw how frightened she still seemed, he tipped her chin up to face him. “I like that it runs in the family.”

She shook her head, not comforted, whispering, “I could’ve killed you.”

He chuckled. “Well, let’s not get carried away. I doubt that. But you should have a better grounding now. You learned a lot from what I showed you; you merely need to absorb it.”

She nodded, trying very hard to accept that, but not appearing to be too confident, biting her lip with anxiety.

Steve held out a hand and pulled Wanda to her feet. “No one was hurt, Wanda. Everything’s okay.”

Natasha gave Lukas some help up, and he surreptitiously steadied himself on her shoulder as if light-headed.

Pietro wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, and she leaned her head into him.

Steve trailed a hand along the new edge of the partial table and shook his head. “No one will ever guess what happened.”

“Someday someone will,” Lukas said. “Someday they’ll know what we can do. The world is a dangerous place, and the universe more so.”

Natasha intervened before Lukas could suggest he and Wanda return to training. “But they shouldn’t know today. We should head back. We have a dinner reservation with the Barnes family, and I think Wanda needs to rest.”

As intended, when she put it that way, Lukas could be gallant and not have to admit his own tiredness. “Yes, of course, that was a lot of power for one unused to wielding it. We’ll walk back to the hotel, slowly.” He caught her hand at the gate. “Wanda. You need not fear your power. You will learn to control it, and you will be amazing.”

She glanced back at the ruined table, but when her eyes met his, she seemed to know he meant it and her posture grew easier. “You are a good teacher, Forefather, and I am proud to be of your blood.” She went up on her toes to kiss his cheek, giving an impish grin, and leaving Lukas somewhat stunned behind her. Steve gripped his shoulder and followed the twins.

Natasha laughed softly. “Is this where I say I told you so?”

“Hush, Natalya. I am having a moment.”

“A moment? Do you need privacy for that?” she teased.

He offered his arm, very old-fashioned. “I need only you. Shall we?”

She tucked her hand around his arm, and did her best Jane Austen impression, “Indeed we shall, Mister Onsdag.”

* * *

In the restaurant, Loki entered the separate room behind James, with Natasha and Steve at his heels. The room held an oval table, set for seven, and two women were standing together, talking while they waited for the others to arrive. One was older, with silvering dark hair, straight and cut off at her chin, and the other much younger, blonde, with a pretty smile.

The older woman’s eyes found him right away and in an instant, her face lit up with delight. He knew who she had to be, finally.

“You’re here!” she exclaimed. “You’re here!” He tried to shake her hand, but she took his between both of hers and was not intending to let go. “Here you are. I’ve dreamed of meeting you for so long, and now you’re here, and all I can say is thank you. Thank you so much for helping Mother.”

Her eyes grew wet as she stared at him, apparently overwhelmed by gratitude, until he started to not know what to say.

Fortunately James rescued him. “Lucy, sweetie, either hug him or let him go.”

Loki expected the latter, but Lucy threw her arms aruond him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered into his hair, before sniffing and letting go. “Well, I told Steve I was going to do that, I thought I should keep my promise.”

James cleared his throat. “Lukas, this hugging demon is my daughter Lucy, as I’m sure you’ve gathered. And the lovely young thing beside her is my grand-niece Sharon Carter. Sharon is our eyes-and-ears inside SHIELD, as she was promoted to full agent status last year.”

Sharon smiled and shook Loki’s hand. “I’ll say it too, thank you for helping Aunt Peggy.”

“Of course. Grand-niece? From her brother, Michael, was it?” Loki asked them. “Was he not in England then?”

Sharon’s smile faded into something fixed. “My parents died when I was little, and I came to live with Aunt Lucy.”

“Ah, I am sorry,” Loki said to her, “I did not know.”

“It was a long time ago,” she asnwered and flashed another smile. “Auntie, the present?” she prompted.

“Yes, of course,” Lucy dug into her over-sized bag and brought out a wrapped box which she handed to Loki. “This is for you.”

“A present? I like presents,” Loki said and lifted the lid of the carboard box, to find a book nestled in tissue paper within. It was a large book, with an umarked brown leather cover, and he frowned as he examined it. Sharon took the packaging from him, and he opened the cover – his fingers froze, at the sight of the runic letters.

A Rabbit’s Guide to the Universe.

Lucy explained softly, “I know Elliot Randolph, of course, since our field is not that big. And I knew the book was yours. Several years ago, I persuaded him to give me a photocopy of the entire book before he published the translation, and I had it bound. Sharon told me the original was lost, so I thought I could give this to you.”

“I--” he started, and his voice died. He had to clear his throat, clasping the book tightly. “I thank you, Lucy. It is a kind thought.”

She smiled, pleased that he was accepting the book. “Did you write it?” she asked. “The dedication said you did. But by dictation or--?”

“I wrote it myself,” he interrupted, looking down at a page he’d opened at random. The paradox of conversion, it was. His lips twitched in amusement. Plainly no Midgardian had ever understood it or they’d be much farther along technologically.

“By hand?” Lucy asked, sounding aghast or amazed by this revelation. “Oh my God, it was in your hand, the whole time? I never dreamed – I thought for sure a prince of Asgard, you must have had scribes or a printer or-- or something! Not that you wrote it yourself in ink.”

He laughed softly at her shock. “Creating something by hand we believe is a more valuable gift. We have time, after all, and we all learn to write. Plus, I needed it to be in arensk, and no one else could do that, except for me.”

He flipped through the book, pleased to see at least his writing survived, though saddened that the original that Elsa had touched was gone. A copy was better than nothing, but it was still a copy.

He tucked it into his jacket pocket and made himself smile at her. “Shall we sit? I see waiters hovering back there, waiting to take our drink orders.”

They seated themselves around the oval table, leaving one empty chair which he noticed. “Is there another person coming?”

Lucy chuckled. “It’s your chair, isn’t it? I thought we should follow Arendelle custom. You know we kept a chair at Thanksgiving and Christmas for you?”

“Did you?” he glanced at James, who nodded confirmation, and Loki was touched. “But, I am here, so there is no need for another seat, is there?” But he looked around and said as Sharon rose to push the chair out of the way. “No, wait. There is one missing. We shall say that is Margaret’s chair, since she is with us in spirit, if not in body tonight. Let it stay.”

The empty seat remained for Peggy, with the others’ approval, and Loki basked in the conversation and the sense of peace being with them. He told stories to answer Lucy’s eager questions, and was glad to hear that she had lied to SHIELD about Mjolnir.

“Of course I suspected whose it was,” she told him as an aside, as they ate their appetizers. “But I didn’t want to tell them for certain that either you or Thor were on Earth again. Which seems strange, I suppose, given Sharon and my own parents’ involvement, I guess – I just thought you should be the one to reveal it, not me.” Her smile widened. “Though I was very excited, inside, and I told Sharon to give me all the news about it.”

He glanced across the table at Sharon, an approving smirk on his lips, teasing, “You are quite the spy, aren’t you?”

“Family sticks together,” Sharon answered with a look at James, as if he’d been the source of the phrase. “They taught me that. And you’re family.”

“Am I? Then I am content.”

That was mostly true, even if something nagged at him that it wasn’t really true. He wasn’t blood with them; only friendship. Only with James and Steve could he rely on long-term acquaintance. The others were dragged along in their wake, friendly to him because James was and because Lucy was interested in him because of her studies. Was any of that truly lasting?

The doubt nagged at him, and he touched the book, reminding himself that he had blood family as well. Blood was not so easily ignored, and now he had Pietro and Wanda to teach. Perhaps their father if he could be found, as well. Then he wouldn’t need to depend on James’ family, but he would have his own.

Natasha’s phone trilled a text notification and she grimaced in apology while she looked at the message with a quick smile. “Sorry. But I just got approval for a mission, if you’d be interested in a little action?” she asked him and flicked her gaze at Steve to include him, too.

“Sure,” James offered before anyone else could speak. “I’ll go.”

“Dad!” Lucy exclaimed.

“What? Am I not fitter than men half my age?” he retorted and held out his prosthetic arm, curling his hand into a fist.

“Yes, Dad. And what would Mom say?” Lucy returned.

“She’d say I should go with Steve and Lukas, pumpkin.”

Lucy grimaced. “This is why you were both impossible,” she muttered, and Loki heard an echo of his own annoyance with his own family growing up and he had to smile.

“Buck,” Steve advised, “Why don’t we hear what the action is? Is this something from SHIELD?”

Natasha nodded and tapped her phone. “I just got approval from Fury. When I was in Arendelle, researching you,” she told Loki, “I heard about a mysterious creature up in the northern mountains.”

Loki was disappointed, waving a hand in dismissal. “Old stories about me, that’s all.”

“Maybe. But a hike in the mountains could be fun? And maybe you’d like to take a break and go home for a little while?” she asked.

“It’s not my home,” he answered shortly, but had to look away at the sharp pain the words caused in him by the denial. Arendelle wasn’t home, it couldn’t be. “My place is here now.”

“We’ll come back,” Natasha reassured him.

“You were the one who wanted to have an adventure,” Steve reminded him. “Maybe it’d be good to go in the wild, away from the media for a bit.”

Loki felt cornered, with Natasha and Steve on both sides pushing him to go, and stood up. “Is this about wanting me away from Wanda and Pietro?” he accused Natasha. “To make sure SHIELD gets to Erik first? Because I won’t allow them to keep him, I promise that. I will tear it apart if harm comes to any of them.”

“No!” Natasha protested, but he ignored her to head for the archway to the main dining room. She came after him, catching up in the small hallway outside the restrooms. “Lukas, no, you know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” he insisted bitterly. “I find it very convenient that SHIELD wishes me elsewhere, now that I have found them.”

“It was my idea,” she told him and curled a hand around his forearm to hold him in front of her. “Mine, not SHIELD’s. I thought you’d want to go to Arendelle. You, me, and Steve if he wants, nobody else. You could take some time for yourself and recover away from all of them,” she gestured with her other hand out toward the strangers in the dining room. “Wanda and Pietro will be fine; it’s you I’m concerned about.”

Those bright eyes met his, somber with truth. “Let’s go away for a little while,” she coaxed. Her hand slid down, circling his wrist loosely and to curl her fingers to hold his hand. “C’mon. You want to look for the monster that haunts the northern Arendelle mountains, you know you do.”

He snorted. “There is no monster, that is absurd.”

“Then it’ll be a nice hike.” She hesitated and smiled with more than a little mischief, as if dangling a present before him, “There’ll be snow. Lots of snow and cold and familiar land. And we’ll be away from all this, on our own.”

Snow in the mountains did sound appealing. The inevitable media hounding here, did not. On his own terms, he could play them, but he feared they might provoke a reaction he couldn’t control right now. He needed to get his mind in shape before he confronted them, and that would be better done someplace else.

He leaned against the wall and regarded her wryly. “So. Winter therapy? Is that your real plan? Not monster hunting?”

She tipped her head in acknowledgment of the truth. “Both? Maria’s looking for a doctor. But until then, let’s go back to Arendelle.”

“I thought you wanted me to be around other people.”

“I do, and you will be. But you’re restless,” she pointed out. “And that stunt at the Mall proved you’re careless as well. It’ll do you and Steve good to be active in a safer place.”

She had a point, that it would be good for Steve. Now that Captain America was back in the world, he needed some space, too.

“All right, fair enough. If Steven goes, too.”

“Good.” She touched the back of his hand. “I think it’ll help. Let’s go back.”

In the dining room, Loki noticed a certain quiet had fallen and James seemed a bit sullen, as if there’d been an argument and he’d lost. All their eyes turned toward the entrance as Loki came through, and he gave a smile. “Forgive the interruption. Steven, are you still interested in joining Natasha and I on our arctic adventure? It will be cold and snowy, so I would understand if you’d rather not.”

“Of course I’ll go with you,” Steve said.

“James?” Loki asked.

Barnes glanced at his daughter then shook his head. “I feel fit enough, but it’s far, and I don’t want to leave Peggy for very long.”

Ah, so that was what the argument had been about, Loki realized. He’d wanted to go but Lucy had prevailed upon him to stay. “Probably for the best,” Loki said. “Hiking in the snow looking for fictional beasts seems a slight adventure. But it will help Steven and I if we vanish from the media for a few days.”

“They’ll probably leave the rest home, too,” Steve added. “But I’ll miss you, buddy. We need to find something fun two old geezers can do together.”

“Shuffleboard and bridge, according to the children,” James said, glowering at his daughter and Sharon.

Loki didn’t like his friends arguing and intervened, “Nonsense. If you want to play a card game, play whist. Much more entertaining. I financed my travel in Europe with that.”

“Gambling?” Lucy exclaimed, sounding shocked.

He smirked and spread his hands. “Even a god needs pocket change.”

The others laughed, and with everyone in a better mood, they resumed dinner and more idle chat to spend a more pleasant evening.

* * *

Natasha wasn’t one to let the grass grow under her feet once a decision was made, and so she got everything ready and was waiting to collect Lukas and Steve after their morning run to the Mall.

Lukas was in clear good humor, coming up to her with a smile. She heaved a sigh and asked dryly, “YouTube again?”

“I said no more running on top of cars, since I don’t think we should be causing accidents,” Steve said and Lukas snorted as if that was a stupid complaint. “So what did he do? Climb on top of a tour bus.”

“A bus is not a car,” Lukas objected.

She made a show of pulling out her phone. “Director Fury’s irate phone call in 5 – 4--”

“Surely it’s too soon for him to know about it?” Loki interrupted, sounding slightly anxious, which gave her the opening.

“You’d think, but he has ways. But lucky for you, we have a quinjet assigned to us. So you two need to pack a bag. Winter gear should already be aboard so don’t worry about it. I’m calling for a car right now and checking us out.”

“But--” Lukas started in protest.

She stared him down. “We are getting out of this city before you get someone killed. Go on, go get your things.”

Funny how two large men could look so completely abashed, share a glance, and make a tactical retreat to their rooms to pack.

It was even funnier when Lukas returned with his small bag and his eyes widened to see that she’d changed into her tac suit. His gaze dropped, and while she’d normally have either ignored or used his reaction, this time she teased, “My eyes are up here.”

“And lovely eyes they are, but I like the entire package they come in,” he retorted.

It was rather shabby retaliation to let her gaze linger on the snug fit of his black t-shirt, but she did it anyway, making sure he noticed what she was doing. His lips curved in a smirk, and did his black jeans just get tighter? No, that was ridiculous; it was a trick of the shadows.

She was glad for Steve’s arrival, and his look at her tac suit was not nearly so lingering.

The SHIELD driver took them to the air force base and the SHIELD hangar near the fighter jets and the quinjet sitting quietly.

Sharon was waiting for them, wearing her tac suit and a short jacket over it. Her step was more businesslike as well as she came to meet them. Her eyes flicked deliberately toward the other agents. “Agent Romanoff, the quinjet’s fueled and ready to go with the equipment you suggested. Here’s the update on current intelligence.”

“Thank you, Agent Carter.” Natasha took the thin sealed envelope.

Sharon offered her hand to Lukas. “Have a good trip, Mister Onsdag.”

“Thank you, Sharon,” Lukas answered, and shook her hand. She nodded to Steve, and headed for the car, gesturing the minor agents to come with them, clearing the tarmac.

“That’s … quite an airplane,” Steve observed, staring at it.

“It’s better than the alternative,” Lukas muttered and headed up the ramp. He wasn’t carrying anything, even though Natasha knew he’d had a small bag in the lobby when they’d left.

“I’ll tell you about it while I do the checklist,” Natasha told Steve and nudged him as she pased, to get him going. In the hold, there was the requested gear, two hiking packs, webbed to one of the seat.

There was another case, large and flat, armored and locked to her biometrics. She tapped it as she went forward, knowing both Lukas and Steve would like seeing the present inside.

On board, Lukas said, “Natalya. This is an data storage device, I believe?” He opened his hand to display a thumb drive that Sharon had slipped into his hand.

“Yes. Let me get us in flight and then you can take a look at it.”

The checklist complete quickly, Natasha took them up, set the flight plan to Arendelle, and let the autopilot take over. The AI of a quinjet was advanced, and as long as she kept an ear out for trouble, she didn’t mind stepping away from the pilot’s seat.

“First, I have a present for Cap. From SHIELD.” She unlocked the case and lifted the lid. “Tactical suit for you. Protective, and will help keep you warm besides.” She handed him the pile. It was navy blue with black and white edging, and a star in the front.

Lukas was also watching, curious. “It seems more subtle than your old suit.”

“It looks nice,” Steve said.

“But?” she prompted when he didn’t go on.

“Nothing, It just seems somber.”

“It’s a tactical suit, not a stage costume,” she said dryly, knowing the source of his previous outfit. “But best for last.” Handling it by the edges and surprised by its lightness, she lifted Cap’s shield out of the case.

“You brought it!” He seized it eagerly. “Fury told me it was in storage.”

Shr shrugged, uncertain where it came from. “They gave me the case. That’s all I know.”

Steve fingered the scuff marks on the front, with a soft smile, and kept the shield across his lap. “Thank you, Natasha.”

“You should change, Steven,” Lukas advised. “And meanwhile, Natalya will help with this.” He waved the thumb drive as if she’d forgotten.

She plucked it away. “Let’s see what Sharon found.” Knowing Lukas was concerned about the information’s security, she used the laptop to isolate the intel from SHIELD, and looked at the files.

“It’s about Erik,” she confirmed, and Lukas was suddenly there, crowding her space and looking at the screen. She ducked out from under to let him have the chair and brushed his shoulder to let him know she was with him.

He read what little Sharon had found, and his lips shaped the name, before he lifted his head to Natasha. His eyes were shining. “Erik Lensherr. That’s his name, Natalya. Sharon found his full name. I need to find him.”

“We willl. We’ll track him down together,” she promised. “He’s out there somewhere, Lukas. When we’re back, we’ll find him.”

He turned back to the photo Sharon had found of a man who looked related to Pietro, with the same pale blond hair cut short and eyes of arresting blue even in the faded copied photo. “Erik,” Lukas murmured. “Where are you right now? Who are you?”

She hoped Erik was still alive. The information Sharon had found ended long before Wanda and Pietro had been born; he’d buried his identity, which made Natasha wonder what had happened.

They’d find out. Lukas would never let it go, not until he knew what had happened to Wanda and Pietro’s father and how the man was related to him. It was a foreign obsession to Natasha, but she would support his desire. It would help his stability and keep him on Earth.

They sped toward Arendelle, where she’d started as a spy assigned to a target. She was still an agent of SHIELD, but she knew about magic now, and she was on this jet with the Ice Demon and Captain America. She felt like she’d become something new.

* * *

tbc...


	13. Chapter 13

Taking the quinjet to Arendelle was the best flight on an airplane that Loki could remember. The seat was more comfortable than the one he’d had on the flight to Spain, and the craft did not reek or have propellers like the war-era planes. Plus it was fast, so he would have to endure it for less time. He still didn’t like the the hum of the engines, whose harmonics seemed wrong to him, but at least exploding seemed less likely.

He was less anxious, but after the revelation of Erik, he grew restless, and went to stand behind Natasha’s pilot’s seat.

She looked up at him curiously. “You can sit there, just don’t touch anything.” She gestured to the co-pilot’s seat.

He shook his head. “I wanted to look outside.”

She examined him for a moment until rising and opening a small cabinet beneath the navigator’s seat. Some clever person had left a bottle of whiskey in there. “That seems particularly unwise on a flying craft,” he observed drily.

“It’s meant for after-action celebrations, not the pilot.” She handed it to him. “Here. You can self-medicate your phobia, if you want.”

“I do not have a phobia. The plane is fine. I wanted to see sky, that’s all,” he objected, but took the bottle anyway. Sniffing the aroma, he decided it was good enough, and tipped the bottle back for a long swallow.

Her gaze was caught by something in the back, and she called, teasing, “Hey, looking good, Rogers.”

Loki turned to see that Steve had put on his new suit. It fit more sleekly than his old suit, not hiding much of anything. Between Steve and Natasha in her Black Widow tac suit, there was no shortage of something enjoyable to look at. Loki felt under-dressed, since he hadn’t shifted to armor, but Natasha seemed not to mind letting her eyes stray across the fit of his black t-shirt, so he left it.

Steve was playing with his shield, practicing releasing it from the magnets that kept it attached to his forearm and the back of his suit. Loki was happy to watch him work with it. The shield belonged with him, and he was glad it hadn’t been lost or stolen.

But that paled after a while, and Loki returned to his seat to nurse the bottle and ponder the news about Erik. He had to be still alive, somewhere. He could not have lived through a terrible war and imprisonment only to die right after fathering Wanda and Pietro.

Steve shifted across the aisle to sit next to Loki. “Hey. You okay? You’re being quiet.”

“Am I?” Loki returned and tried a smile. “It’s an airplane. You heard I have a phobia.”

“Really?” Steve asked. He flicked his eyes at the thumb drive that Loki was toying with between his fingers. “You’re not thinking about Erik?”

They knew him too well. Loki let the smile slip from his lips, and curled his hand around the drive. “He was a child,” Loki murmured. “A child in that horror. At first in a death camp and taken by Hydra when they discovered he had a power. We went right past where he was being held on our way to the Alps base. He was freed later by Margaret and the rest of them, after we were gone.”

Steve’s hand closed on his knee. “But they did free him, Lukas. And we helped him, by getting rid of Zola and Schmidt.”

He shook his head, but not really disagreeing. He knew Steve was right, they’d done what they could, but it wasn’t enough. “I could have rescued him sooner. I could’ve freed him before they’d even found out he had power, if I’d attacked the camps.”

“Lukas, no, stop,” Steve murmured, both hands squeezing at Loki’s legs. “Don’t do this. It’s not your fault. We could only do so much during the war. We’re powerful, but we’re not God. You didn’t know he existed-- you couldn’t have helped him any differently than you did. Are you listening to me? I’m sorry we couldn’t help more, too, believe me, I looked at some of the histories, so I know there were other places, other ways, we could’ve used our powers. But the fact is, it was a war, and two people, no matter how powerful, could never fix everything.”

Loki remembered the tesseract and thought that wasn’t true. With that much power to hand he could have fixed it all. But the tesseract hadn’t been in reach until the very end, when he’d lost it, and now Fury had buried it in some remote laboratory. He was going to have to retrieve it, at some point; the humans shouldn’t keep it, that was just asking for trouble to come to Earth. But during the war, if Loki had been able to grab it, the outcome would have been a lot swifter.

But he didn’t think Steve would appreciate Loki’s desire to burn the entire Reich to the ground, so he allowed with some reluctance, “Perhaps not everything. But I wish I could’ve done more.”

A _child_ suffering as he had. It was abhorrent, and made his soul shrivel with the wrongness of it.

“Me, too,” Steve agreed, squeezed his leg once more and went back to his seat across the aisle.

After that, probably in an effort to distract him, Natasha brought up the creature for them to talk about.

Loki wondered if it were Olaf, somehow still existing, but no one would describe Olaf as a yeti. But there were those old stories about the Ice Demon where he’d been wearing a wolf pelts, so probably the new story was a confusion of the Ice Demon and a bear. Bears on their hind legs could look oddly human and yet far too big to be human, so perhaps some lost polar bear had caused all the fantastic stories to be unearthed again. The Ice Demon had returned to the people’s awareness in Arendelle after the war, so it wasn’t much surprise, really. Mortals so often combined and exaggerated stories and then were surprised when the truth turned out to be so mundane.

But all in all it was a pleasant and quick flight, and Natasha was soon setting the quinjet down amid the northern mountains, near the last ‘sighting’.

He was first outside, heading down the ramp in his ordinary casual clothes to take a look. It would’ve been warmer if the sun were out, but the sky was low and covered by heavy, winter-like grey clouds. It had already snowed once, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it snowed again, since it was cold enough.

Natasha followed him out, bundled up in a parka with a fur-lined hood and he liked the way it framed her face.

On the ground, he called his armor and a fur-lined short cape mostly for appearance, than utility, but it was good to feel himself again.

Natasha’s face was a study in absolute unwillingness to be astonished, but he could see it anyway, especially as Steve openly stared. “Dear Lord, what is that?”

“My Asgardian battle armor. Protective but flexible for combat.”

Steve slowly shook his head. “I thought I was hallucinating when you were wearing that on the flying wing.”

“It looks like leather. We have better materials,” Natasha said coolly.

He smirked at her. “Natalya, mortals have achieved much, I will allow that, but there is no better material than pegasus hide laid with a thousand years of protective spells.” He paused, wondering if either of them would question ‘pegasus hide’ but they didn’t. He’d have to try it on Barton instead.

Moving away from the quinjet, he cast a basic search spell. Just because he thought “the monster” was a polar bear didn’t mean it was. Arendelle was saturated with power after Elsa had used the tesseract, and it might have lured entities through cracks in the dimensional wall.

Closing his eyes, he sent his awareness outward, searching. There was something. It was faint, echoing through the ground. It was definitely something magical. Or at least touched by magic.

He pushed, trying to get nearer to it and understand what he was sensing, when a different awareness abruptly surrounded him. A ‘voice’ called his name across the gulf of the void.

“ _Loki_?” A familiar presence returned, a feeling of desperation giving it power to break the shield he’d made. “ _Loki_!”

It was Frigga, again, pleading, “ _Loki, please, no, don’t shut me out_ \--”

He tied the threads long enough to give her a taste of his pain and betrayal and abandonment, but mostly anger. “ _I told you to leave me alone. I want nothing to do with you or with Odin. Get out of my head and be gone_.”

He shut her out again and stumbled as he opened his eyes.

“Lukas?” Natasha asked.

He cast his eyes upward, glowering at the interruption, and inhaled a deep breath, settling himself. “I found something. I think. Probably just a polar bear, but it’s the only thing nearby that seems anomalous.” He turned in place to get a fix on the direction. “This way.”

* * *

Natasha followed, curious what Lukas was sensing. The area of thin pine woods was very quiet, snow barely touched by any other tracks it was so new. Luckily it was only a few inches deep, thought the sky remained overcast and threatening.

They headed toward a rocky hillside, and the trees petered out right in front of a narrow vertical gap in the rock as if someone had pulled apart a seam.

“Are we going in there?” Natasha asked, knowing they were. “What if there’s a bear?” Or on second thought, since a bear couldn’t fit through the crack, she added, “Or wolves?”

Lukas shook his head. “I sense no animals. This is something else. This is some very old magic here.”

“Like our friends, the rocks?” she asked.

“No, much older. And stronger.” He shook his head, frowning in puzzlement. “I should have known this place was here. This much power… how could I have missed it? And yet, the ancient strength of it...”

“Are you sure we should go in?” Steve asked.

“I am quite sure we should not, but I think we have little choice.” He headed for the opening, slipping through. Steve followed, a tighter fit, and Natasha followed, wary of a trap or ambush.

It was dark within, especially with her body blocking most of the faint outside light, but as Steve fumbled for his flashlight, Lukas said, “No need. I have it.”

His voice echoed and soon she could see why, as a soft golden light formed in his palms and drifted upward to illuminate the cavern. She watched the glowing ball that looked as if it were made of glowing honey, and thought that she probably ought to be more surprised, but this seemed rather trivial to what she’d already seen him do.

The cavern was empty of bears or any other animal thankfully – strangely so, when it should have been used for animal nests, but the ground was barren. The walls and ceiling were smooth granite, almost perfectly rounded and about ten feet across.

“This doesn’t feel natural,” she murmured, and turned in place, hand on her sidearm and ready to charge the widow’s bite. Except for the opening to the outside and the short tunnel, there was no break in the stone.

“No, it doesn’t,” Steve agreed. “Is this magical? Lukas?”

Lukas shook his head, but not to deny it was magic. “Nay, Steven. In this place Lukas does not exist. Here I must be only Loki.” He was looking at the wall, but as if he saw something. “I think I must accept their invitation,” he murmured.

“Whose invitation?” Natasha asked. “What are you looking at?”

“The door,” he answered. “There’s a way in.”

“There’s no door,” Steve said and exchanged a glance with her to make sure she wasn’t seeing it either. “Lukas, there’s nothing there.”

“Then you’re not invited,” Lukas said. “It must be for me alone. Do not follow. If I don’t return soon, leave without me.”

“I’m not leaving you here!” Steve protested.

Lukas turned to him. “Steven, the Norns do as they will.”

“The Norns?” Steve questioned. “Who, or what is that?”

“The guardians of fate. The watchers of destiny. Neither you nor I can do anything against them. But it appears they want me to enter, so I must.” He removed a slim-hilted dagger from his inner vambrace and handed it to Natasha. “Keep this for me, I should not go armed.”

She grabbed his wrist to keep him from leaving. “I don’t like this.”

He gave a wry smile. “I’m not overly fond of it myself. But nor am I fool enough to ignore them. Wait for me, but no more than one day. That long, and they want something more than giving me a message, and there is nothing you can do against that either.”

He disengaged from her grip and headed for the blank stone face. It was as if the stone itself seemed to become soft like tar, but he didn’t seem to notice it curling and flowing around him, as he walked through as if there was nothing there at all. When she tried to follow, her hand found only cold granite.

Letting out a breath, she turned to Steve. “I guess we wait.”

Steve shook his head. “Magic. I don’t get it. And I don’t think I like it.”

She thought of Lukas disappearing at the bidding of beings who so far outclassed Loki in power she was nothing more than an ant to them. Her grip tightened on the hilt of his dagger, seeking some comfort from its solidity. “No. I don’t either.”

* * *

Loki walked the tunnel, rather irritated that he was being pulled away from his friends. Especially when he suspected he already knew what the message would be: _Your fate is a monster and a villain, and you are not following the path laid out for you_.

“I will not,” he said aloud. “I know the prophecy, I know the stories. Do you think I have not felt your hand behind what I have endured, trying to force me to drink your poison? I know what you want of me.”

There was no response, of course. But they heard, he was sure of that, given how heavy the feeling of ancient magic lay on each step.

“Is it not enough to turn me against Asgard?” he demanded, addressing the presence that lingered on the edge of his awareness, his voice rising with irrepressible fury. “Is it not enough that I lose my family, again and again, or that I learn pain and fear and face death? There is nothing _more_ to take from me!”

As his voice echoed against the stone, the way abruptly opened up into a larger cavern with a ceiling so high his small magelight didn’t touch its upper reaches, only shone on delicate towers and lattices of colored crystal that began to glow on their own.

Further in, there was a pool that should have smelled of metallic salts that had created the crystals, but instead the scent was sweet and inviting, like Frigga’s lilacs in her garden.

“Oh, of course, I should have known there would be a sacred pool,” he muttered, and started taking off his clothes. “Nothing can be simple.”

Folding his undertunic on top of the pile next to his boots, he stood at the edge of the pool and looked down. Inside the rim of stone, the water  looked dark and depthless, the light at the surface not penetrating far. Either there was a bottom or there was not, and they didn’t bring him here to kill him, so what other choice did he have?

He walked off the edge and plunged into the water. It was chill but not intolerably so. The water closed over his head, and with that the light was extinguished.

The sudden darkness made his heart pound and when he tried to push himself up toward the surface, he had no sense of movement. When he tried to cast his own light, nothing happened. He reached outward, trying to find the wall of the pool, but touched nothing.

He swam more urgently, looking for something, _anything_ , but there was only dark water all around. He was losing his breath, and panic clawed for attention in his chest, rising in his throat like something alive.

Then abruptly he was elsewhere.

… _dark stone beneath his feet, strange night sky above his head, a creature wearing a cowl and a long clawed hand beckoned_ …

… _jewels scattered against the black, red and violet and yellow and green and orange and the one he knew well that was glowing blue_ …

… _a small cottage in the middle of a field, silvery moonlight shining on new snow, as on the edges all around white wolves crept closer, thinking themselves unseen_ …

… _the blade drove through his abdomen, pain and pressure making him gasp, and he looked up into the triumphant demonic visage of Johann Schmidt_...

He recoiled from the sight, shoving back.

 _NO. No, I won’t I won’t do this I won’t see this no no no_ ….

There was a block behind him, some wall trying to force him to stay there, but he rejected it, using the bright blade of his will to cut an exit and escape the vision.

But on the other side there was only a void of dark water and struggling to find a way out. But there was nothing else, only trying to scream and water filling his lungs as the night closed in.

* * *

tbc... 


	14. Chapter 14

Natasha shivered as a chill breeze swirled through the cavern, and when she pulled the zipper on her jacket up to her neck, she saw there was an opening in the stone, which hadn’t been there before.

“Steve?” she asked. “Do you see it?”

He turned to follow her gaze, and his lips parted in astonishment. “It’s really there. What the hell is going on?”

She figured it was open to let Lukas out, but instead she heard a sound, a faint echoing cry like someone in pain. Not hesitating, she darted into the new opening, dashing through the short tunnel until it opened up into a bigger cavern. She noted the beauty of the formations absently as she searched for Lukas – she saw his clothes on the floor as Steve rushed past her.

“Oh no!” he exclaimed.

Lukas was floating, face-down, in a pool of water. His skin looked pale and he wasn’t moving at all. Her heart lurched at the sight.

Steve jumped in, grabbing Lukas’ limp form and turning him over, to hold his head against Steve’s shoulder out of the water. He didn’t stir, water dripping down his face and running out of his mouth, insensate. She knelt as Steve grabbed the edge with his free hand to pull himself closer.

“I’ll push, you pull,” Steve said, and she bent to take hold under Lukas’ arms, shuffling backward as Steve helped lift him out of the water.

Lukas was naked, but aside from noting that fact she ignored it, watching his face as she felt for the pulse in his neck. His skin was cold, but she could feel a fluttering against her fingertips. “Oh, thank God,” she murmured, and her eyes met Steve’s as he hauled himself out of the water. “He’s alive.” She touched his cold lips and felt no air. “But I don’t think he’s breathing.”

Tilting Lukas’ head back, Natasha pinched his nose and sealed her lips to his to give him a few rescue breaths and see if she could prompt him to try breathing on his own again.

He tried to inhale, then convulsed, and she pushed him onto his side as he coughed up water. When the spasm seemed finished, he stayed on his side, panting for breath.

“Lukas? You alright?” she asked.

He pushed himself up on one elbow and pulled a leg under himself to sit. “I think so,” he answered finally and inhaled a deep breath, coughing again and wiping his mouth before looking at her then up at Steve, noting that he was wet, too. “Thank you. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t owe us anything,” Steve said. “We’re lucky they opened the way to you in time.” Steve tried to hand him his pants without looking at him, but also unable not to, then looking away again, as if stung. His reaction made her want to laugh. “Here.”

Lukas tried a smirk that came off weary. “If this is for your prurience I will, though Asgard is not particularly modest. Let me gather some strength and I’ll dry us both off.” He draped the pants over his lap as he shifted to sit cross-legged, and Natasha’s eyes went there, as suddenly she realized Steve’s problem. Her business-like attitude shifted and she realized she was watching water droplets roll down his skin. She bit the inside of her lip and raised her eyes again, hoping no one noticed her gaze.

Luckily Lukas had his head down, slumping tiredly and coughing again. Steve asked, “So, besides you almost drowning, what happened?”

Lukas gave a brittle laugh. “They thought it would be a good idea to shove me into a dark box to try to tell me something.”

All thoughts of trivial attraction fled, replaced by dismay. They’d put him in a position to replicate his captivity which was something anyone on Earth knew perfectly well would be upsetting, and in Lukas’ case, caused a panic attack.

“Oh Jesus,” Steve breathed, shaking his head. He knelt down in front of Lukas, while Natasha scooted closer to him, offering her hand which he gripped against his leg. “That’s just wrong.”

“They’re ignorant or cruel,” Natasha murmured. “Either way, it doesn’t fill me with a lot of confidence.”

“They knew,” he answered, voice hollow. “Of course they knew. Their entire purpose, it seems, is to turn me into the villain of prophecy. Ragnarok doesn’t happen on its own, you know.” He gave another of those bitter chuckles, and his pale eyes seemed bleak. “They play the long game to get what they want.”

“Long game’ meaning to break him down into someone more malleable to their intentions. Her own experience made the idea far too plausible. And sickening. “You won’t,” Natasha said, as firmly as she could. “You’re turning away from darkness, not toward it. Besides, if they have to force you to it, then it won’t be you.”

“Yeah, screw them,” Steve added. “They can find someone else. There’s no shortage of wickedness in the world.”

Lukas’ head snapped up, as if Steve’s words struck a chord in his memory, and he frowned. “There was someone watching,” he murmured. “In the vision. The wolves were gathering.”

“No offense to your Norns,” Natasha said, “But we already knew that.”

“Did you learn anything useful?” Steve asked. “Anything worth the price?”

Lukas touched his stomach, and he looked as if he wasn’t sharing everything as he murmured, “No. Only nightmares I conjured up myself. Symbols or warnings, I suspect. The Norns never speak plainly. Sacred pools are supposed to help.” He gestured to the water and added with a bitter chuckle, “It worked marvelously.” Clearing his throat, he moved his hand and fingers in a peculiar way. The water fell away from him, leaving his hair looking soft and with some wave to it that she suddenly had a need to run her fingers through.

But she turned away as he stretched out his legs to start putting on his trousers, ignoring his soft laugh. “So polite, Natalya. For what you already saw.”

Twice, actually, since he’d also been naked when she’d found him in Sokovia. But there was no benefit in reminding him of that. She kept her tone light and retorted, “Put your clothes on, Lukas. You can pretend to be a stripper another time.”

“Oh, be careful-- you might stab yourself with such wit,” he shot back.

Steve snickered as Lukas stood and circled her, to get into her line of sight. She reminded herself that Red Room graduates didn’t care about shirtlessness and tight leather pants and let herself look with an arched brow as her only response. But he smirked. “Mmm, I think Natalya is barely holding herself back from jumping me, what do you think, Steven?”

“I think I’m staying out of it,” Steve answered, holding up his hands and retreating to gather up the rest of Lukas’ clothes.

As Lukas took them, he made another gesture to dry Steve as well, and said more seriously, “Thank you, Steven.”

“Hey, I promised I’d have your back, didn’t I?” Steve answered. “I meant it.”

“Well, I do appreciate it. Both of you,” he glanced at Natasha to make sure she was included in his gratitude. “Come, I have no wish to linger in this place.”

His intent to leave was immediately thwarted by the discovery that it was snowing outside.

“We can go,” Natasha offered. “It’s not a bad storm.” Which it wasn’t – the snow was falling, but not too heavily and there didn’t seem to be any wind, though the chill was already touching her nose.

Lukas glanced back in the direction of the pool, whose opening had closed behind them as soon as they’d all passed through, and he shook his head, giving a short sigh of resignation. “No. There’s no reason. It’s full dark already, and we should use this shelter while we have it. Let us make camp in the cave, and we can start our quest in the morning.”

Natasha thought that might be his way of suggesting he needed a rest, and since this wasn’t an urgent mission, there was no need to press on. She exchanged a glance with Steve, and they made camp in the cave.

* * *

Steve snapped awake at the sound of scuffing against stone. He opened his eyes to see Lukas pad out the tunnel leading outside.

In the dimmed light from the small lantern, he glanced toward Natasha, to have her gaze meet his, as awake. She nodded her head for him to follow Lukas, so he wriggled out of the sleepsack, shoved his feet back into his boots, and left the cave.

Outside, the storm had passed and the sky was clear and lit with a thick carpet of outflung stars. The fresh snow made it easy to follow Lukas’ tracks along the rock face. Until they abruptly stopped.

Steve looked around, wondering if he’d gone inside some other cave or done his trick of going Someplace Else. Then he lifted his head to find Lukas’s boots inches above him. He was sitting on the edge of an outcropping in the rock, legs dangling. Lukas waggled his fingers at Steve, smirking.

Steve pulled himself up to sit beside him. The view was outstanding, since they were high enough now to see the way the trees sloped downward and the clouds had mostly cleared, leaving a star-filled sky all around them. He let the silence linger for awhile before asking, “Can’t sleep?”

Lukas shrugged. “I wanted to be outside. The cold doesn’t bother me.” He paused and asked, “Does it bother you?”

Steve knew he meant because of his ice nap, and shook his head. “I thought it would, but… not really? I remember feeling the cold before I passed out, but hell, the winter of ‘34 was worse. Now that was cold, and lasted longer.” He looked out at the forest and the sky above. “Remember the Baltic mission? Lots of snow and ice on that one, too.” There’d been a lot of very cold water taking down that island base in the Danish straits. London had given them the assignment, not because it was Hydra, but because Steve and Lukas’ ability to fall from airplanes had let them take out the perimeter so the rest of the Commandos could come in.

Lukas’ grin was sudden and bright. “That was a good one.”

“Wait.” Steve snapped a look at him, new revelations re-casting old memories. “You used that dimension hopping trick, didn’t you? You didn’t find a ‘secret door.’ You just,” he gestured with both hands, imitating Lukas’ movements in shifting their timeline, “did that thing, sneaking in behind them. I had to fight my way down.”

“And you enjoyed every minute of it.”

Steve wanted to deny that. It had been a lot of fighting and killing and blood and that shouldn’t be ‘fun’. But throwing his shield, powering through the enemy, knowing what he was doing was vital to the war effort and breaking the German stranglehold on the northern Atlantic, hadn’t exactly been unpleasant. So he had to admit, “I do miss it. I’m not sure what I’m going to do without it.”

The smile slipped away and Lukas cast his gaze outward again. “We’ll have enemies to fight, Steven,” Lukas promised. “Fury’s not wrong about the need for something like his Avengers Initiative. This Realm sits on the brink of a massive explosion in technology and magic, and some will inevitably fall into the wrong hands.”

Steve frowned at him. “What makes you say that? I don’t doubt you’re right, but how do you know?”

“Wanda,” Lukas answered, and elaborated. “Her powers are far stronger than they should be, when her descent from me is several generations. Also, her potential opened early without prompting. Like me, she wields raw seidr, which is one of the fundamental forces. By its nature, it connects forward and back, future and past, so I believe it was readying her.”

“The magic could see what was coming, so it made her powerful?” Steve asked. That seemed weird, though after being in that fallen version of Washington, he couldn’t say it was all that bizarre.

“Yes. And because of that, it hints at what’s to come. If a mortal needs her level of power, then… there will be a threat its equal.”

“That sounds like fate,” Steve murmured.

“I suppose it is, at that. The Norns do as they will. And notice, if my descendant is so powerful, does it not make me superfluous?” Loki asked.

Steve knew what he was suggesting, but shook his head. “Or the threat is so large it needs both of you?”

Lukas grimaced. “I suppose that’s also possible. Though rather concerning.”

Lukas pulled up his knees and wrapped his hands around them, looking outward, but into distant thought or memory. It was a self-protective pose, and Steve hated to see it. He wanted to throw his shield at some Norns and make them leave Lukas alone, but since he couldn’t do that, he promised aloud, “Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.”

Very softly, without looking at Steve, Lukas answered, “I hope there comes a day I can help you as much as you help me.”

“That day is every day. I know I wouldn’t be nearly so,” he hesitated trying to think of the right word, “together, if you weren’t here, too.”

He reached across Lukas’ back to grip his shoulder, fingers closing over the metal and leather feel of his armor tightly enough to feel the muscle beneath. When Lukas leaned into him, as if seeking the warmth or just the human connection of it, Steve tugged him closer. He recalled having that body next to him in the water and how his skin had felt under Steve’s hands, all sleek and firm and wet.

He stomped on that memory and pushed it away. Lukas needed a friend, right now, more than he needed those kind of thoughts, even if his mind was treacherously replaying Lukas offering something fun. But no, he and Natasha were in the middle of something, and Steve didn’t want to intrude.

That was all beside the point of Lukas having drowned hours before and all the other shit he’d been through. He needed support.

“We’ll get through this,” Steve murmured. “We should go back in, though; get some rest.”

“I am resting.”

He probably was, but Steve shook his head. “How about sleep? Do you think you can try again?”

“I’d rather not, but you should go find some warmth,” Lukas coaxed him. “I’m used to the cold.”

Steve didn’t move. Lukas was the Ice Demon, and he’d spent years in Arendelle, so of course he’d be used to it. “Does it feel like home? Being back here in the mountains, the Ice Demon again?” Steve asked with a smile, hoping to prompt a good memory.

Lukas paused and rubbed his fingers against the rock. “No,” he said finally. “Maybe in the city,” he waved his hand in the general direction of Arendelle the town, “But not here. The mountains are where the Ice Demon was a monster, and where I was alone.”

Steve winced inwardly, thinking bringing him here might have been a mistake, but he tried a smile for Lukas. “Well, you’re not alone now.”

He squeezed Lukas’ shoulder and stayed at his side. They sat together on the cold rock until first light. Whether it was simply luck or some kind of magic, the clouds stayed sparse, letting them watch the night sky full of all its glorious stars.


	15. Chapter 15

* * *

Lukas and Steve went ahead to break a path in the new snow, and Natasha hated both of them with a burning passion because neither of them noticed the temperature. She glared daggers into their backs and tightened her hood, reminding herself she was born in Russia, she was a graduate of the Red Room, and she should be tougher than some 90-year-old from Brooklyn.

Steve laughed at something Lukas said, and she pondered which one she should strangle first. She could leave the bodies here and probably no one would find them for years. It would be a reverse of the comic book story of Captain America finding the Ice Demon in the ice of Arendelle.

She was glad they were friends, and it was good that Steve had kept Lukas company in his insomnia last night. After that, they’d all had a pleasant start to their day. But, hours on, they were far too cheerful as they hiked around in the snow, following Lukas’ will-o-wisp feelings about maybe there was something sort of magical thataway.

“Are we getting closer?” she interrupted, not masking her annoyance.

Lukas glanced back over his shoulder, smirking, and mocked, “You mean, are we there yet?” Then he laughed as if that was the funniest thing he’d heard all day.

She was definitely taking him out first. She indulged herself in a fantasy of a quick attack and wrapping her legs and a garrote around his neck. Not that a fight would end up that way, but it was a fun thing to imagine for a little while as they trekked through deeper snow and toward a stand of pines. “Why did I have to come on this make-work mission?”

He was still amused. "You are here to keep us out of trouble, I believe."

"No trouble out here in this white hell," she muttered.

She could not have been more wrong, as trouble found them.

There was no warning, only an angry roar, as the snow itself seemed to rear up and hurl itself at her. Ice pelted her, and she staggered back, reaching for her sidearm in her coat pocket.

More roaring and something massive swatted her so hard she went flying, crashing into a snowbank. Scrambling up, she had her first view of … the thing. It was giant-sized, three meters tall, vaguely human shaped but seemingly made of snow or ice, with big black eyes and a cavernous mouth.

Steve hurled his shield, striking the creature in the head. It didn’t seem hurt by the blow, only angered. It roared again, and a huge hand slammed down. Steve threw himself out of the way, and the snow beast followed, digging through the snow for him, as Steve leaped away again.

"So there's no creature?" she called to Lukas. "Just stories about you? Or polar bears? Because I have news for you!"

"All right, I was wrong!" he yelled back, ducking an icy hand that slammed next to him.

Careful of her line of fire, in case the beast wasn’t as solid as it looked, she fired her sidearm at it. It staggered, and she saw a hole briefly before it was gone. But the shot drew its attention and she backed away, useless weapon steady in her hands. Drop it and go for her wire, that might work better. If one of the other could distract it, she could get the line around its neck. But if it didn’t breathe, that wasn’t going to be effective, and she doubted she was strong enough to decapitate it. But Steve or Lukas might be. She let the gun fall and grabbed for her line, waiting for her moment as she retreated again.

“Hey!” Lukas called, and hurled a dagger at its back. It whirled around to go after him. Lukas straightened, holding out his hands. "Halt!" he called in command. His fingertips were aglow with a greenish fire and the creature stopped, held in place by whatever he was doing.

She was about to leap onto its back, when she heard Lukas whisper, “Elsa?” His tone was so different, she halted her motion and circled enough to see that he was looking up at it, his hands up, with wonder and recognition in his face.

The creature's head whipped down, two coal-black eyes fixing on him but now without the earlier rage.

"Destroy it!" Steve cried, but Lukas ignored him, staring up at the creature.

"I feel her power in you. You're Elsa's, you must be," Lukas said, his voice soft. He lowered his hands and moved closer to the creature. She prayed this wasn’t going to end badly, as Lukas eased closer. "It's been so long since she went away. You must have been so alone...."

The giant ice monster whimpered, and Natasha realized it understood him, at least at some level.

Lukas extended one empty hand, reaching for the creature. "I didn't know you were here. I would have come," he promised. "I... I am so sorry you've been alone all this time."

It seemed to be working, as the creature looked down at him, but then he howled and a giant icy fist slammed Lukas into a pine tree. The impact echoed and the trunk cracked, as Lukas fell to the ground beneath it. All the snow that had been on the tree branches, fell with a whoosh and buried him.

The monster turned and loped through the trees, tearing off branches as it passed.

Steve was closer to Lukas and rushed over, as a hand emerged from the snow pile. Steve bent to help clear some of the snow, before grabbing Lukas’ wrist and bodily pulling him out. "Lukas! You okay?”

On his feet, Lukas shook the snow from his hair. “Fine. You?”

“We’re good, but come on, we have to go after it.”

Steve started to turn, but Lukas grabbed his shoulder to keep him still. "No. We let it go."

Steve stared at him, brow knitted in confusion. "But why?"

Lukas turned from him, to look in the direction the ice monster had gone. "My daughter created it. It's all I have left of her."

It was plain Steve had no idea what to say; Natasha doubted that he knew the story. "Oh. I'm sorry. Your daughter?"

"Elsa. The Snow Queen of Arendelle," he answered distantly. "Officially I am her ancestor, but she was my daughter. She died in 1823."

Natasha, who'd heard enough to put it together before that, still was struck by hearing it aloud. A historical figure – a fantastical figure of legend, really, "the Snow Queen of Arendelle" – was his daughter, the one he'd nearly cried over at Randolph's house when he'd seen the book. She remembered the images the trolls had shown her of Queen Elsa's funeral and Lukas kneeling at her bier, crumpled in grief.

After a moment's silence, he forced a brief laugh. "It must sound ridiculous to mourn someone dead almost two hundred years."

"No," Steve replied, voice soft with sympathy, and he set a hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't." Then he gave a pained smile. "I'm not exactly in a position to throw stones here, y'know."

Posture relaxing, Lukas glanced at Steve. "I suppose not."

Natasha brushed off the snow caked on her trouser legs with her gloves and stomped closer. "Which leaves the problem of what to do with that... creature. It's still dangerous."

"I... don't know," Lukas answered. "It's alone and feral." His pale eyes sought the more distant mountain peak. "I was not so different once. But I don't know how to help it. I don't have the power to make a companion for it; Elsa was able to create it because of the tesseract. I could take it elsewhere, maybe to Jotunheim where it would have winter permanently, but this is its home. If I did that, I might as well kill it."

The sad hopelessness of his voice touched her. "Perhaps some sort of park?" she asked. "I think this is already protected wilderness, so they could make more of an effort to keep people away for their own safety."

“Its safety, too,” Steve said. “I feel like it would be like a modern King Kong, if the public found out." Lukas frowned at him, and Steve abruptly grinned, “Seriously? Do I know a reference you don’t?”

“King Kong is a story about a giant ape found on a hidden island and toured around as an attraction,” Natasha explained. “But Steve’s right; if people find out about the creature, someone might be able to capture it.”

“And put it on display,” Lukas said, in disgust.

Natasha hesitated before saying, “Or worse. Humans aren’t always kind to what’s different and magical.”

His skin went ashen. “Experiment on it, you mean.” She nodded and touched his arm, but he shrugged her off and took a few steps away, looking toward the clouds that hid the higher peaks.

“Go to Arendelle,” he abruptly commanded. “I will find you.”

“Lukas, no-- Wait!” She grabbed for his arm, but it was touching smoke. She felt nothing. She heard snow cracking as if from a footstep and lunged in that direction, but a bright green glow washed across the white field and she knew he was gone.

Swearing in Russian, she turned to meet Steve’s gaze.

“Maybe he needs time alone,” Steve suggested.

She agreed with a sigh, though she thought his true intent was something else. Lukas would either send the creature away or destroy it to save it from the same thing he’d suffered. She just didn’t want him to face that choice alone.

With heavy heart, she turned her feet toward the quinjet. “Come on, Rogers. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

* * *

She set the quinjet down at the military base, almost exactly where it had landed before. She walked out on the tarmac, remembering Sitwell meeting her so they could investigate ‘the anomaly’ which had turned out to be the Ice Demon. She wondered how much Lukas regretted not killing Ward when he’d had the chance at their first encounter. But at least she’d done her job and kept Lukas from turning against all of SHIELD, despite considerable provocation.

She borrowed a driver to take them into town and returned to the small hotel she’d stayed in previously. When the clerk recognized her, surprised she wasn’t on her way back to Russia as she’d claimed, Natasha only had to look at Steve as her ‘explanation’. Requesting three separate rooms didn’t change the clerk’s knowing look and smile as she handed over the keycards.

Later, she and Steve ate dinner down the street from the hotel and were finishing with coffee and whiskey, when the front door opened with the sound of cheerful bells.

Lukas stood in the archway, surveyed the common room and found them in the corner table. He sauntered to them, not a care in the world, dressed only in a green jumper and slacks as if coats were for other people, but his eyes seemed dark and his lips made only a faint attempt at a smile.

“You okay?” Steve asked, after Lukas plopped down in the third chair.

“Fine,” he answered with a deliberate shrug.

“How did you get here so soon?” she asked. “You couldn't have walked all that way? Or was it… that other weird path?”

He huffed a chuckle. “No. I ended up not far from a village and I took the train in.”

“Oh.” She felt oddly deflated that he’d done something so normal. “Well, that’s good.” Letting the silence hang didn’t spur him to volunteer the news, so she prompted, “And the creature?”

“I unmade it,” he answered flatly. But his hand trembled as he reached for the last piece of bread still lingering from their dinner.

“No!” Steve gasped. “Why? I thought you wanted to save it.”

“I did.” Lukas helped himself to her coffee and she let him, figuring he needed it more than she did. “But I can’t. No one can. So I made sure it will be no one’s entertainment or _experiment_ ,” he snarled the last word, and she nodded to herself.

“But the park idea--” Baleful eyes met Steve’s, and Steve fell silent.

“It was mine to do and I did it,” Lukas declared.

There wasn’t much they could say to that. Steve didn’t approve, that was obvious, but he kept any further objection to himself. She decided she didn’t want to appear to disapprove also, so she murmured, “I know. But I wish I could’ve done it for you.”

Steve looked at her sharply, but she ignored him. It was true enough, that she would’ve done it to spare Lukas from having to do it himself. She’d done worse, for worse reasons.

Lukas shook his head once. “You wouldn’t know how. But it was simply a matter of… pulling a thread to let it unravel. It was a magical construct, and Earth is safer without it.” He said the words firmly, to convince himself, and only the tremor in his fingers and the shadow in his eyes said otherwise.

Natasha signaled the hostess over, and Lukas ordered brandy instead. When it came he held it under his nose, seeming more interested in the aroma than drinking it.

“So are we finished here?” she asked. “Should we stay in town tomorrow, or go back to New York?”

“Stay,” Lukas answered. “I have something to do. And--” His effort to perk up was almost painful to watch as he tried to smile. “I can show Steven the sights.”

She worried that it would be too much for him, but since he was volunteering, she agreed. Perhaps now that they were back, he could find some peace. 

* * *

tbc... 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are at the final chapter. Don't panic, there will be more of what I pretentiously call the Ice Demon Saga, as you'll see at the end. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading along. I do this for love, but also for readers, so it makes me quite happy to know when readers love it, too!

* * *

Loki shut the door of his small hotel room and looked without interest at the white-and-black striped covers on the bed. He plugged his phone in to charge it, and turned on the television to distract himself.

But he found nothing worth watching and turned it off. Wandering to the window, he lifted the thick curtain out of the way, and looked out at the night. The town’s lights were not so bright as to hide all view of the stars.

Noticing the window could open, he lifted the sash, ducked beneath, and sat on the sill, dangling his feet.

A rumbling groan announced the neighboring window was opening and Natasha poked her head out, looking unsurprised to find him sitting in the window. “You want company?” she asked.

“Sure,” he answered, figuring she would sit on her own window sill. But when she climbed outside, she crouched and held out her hand. When he reached out to take it, she was too far to take her hand. She jumped. 

Startled, as her hand curled around his arm, he instinctively grabbed her wrist. Reaching for her with his other hand, he caught her weight as she rotated her body enough for her foot to catch his window sill. Using his arm as a lever, she pulled herself up. “Are you mad?” he challenged, a little breathless, when she was half inside his window and in no danger of falling. What if she'd fallen? Or he'd lost his grip? Or... 

“I knew you would catch me,” she answered with such a lack of doubt, he found he had nothing to say. She wriggled herself to sit next to him. After a silence, where he turned his attention back toward the sky and the familiar rooftops, she touched the back of his hand. “I'm sorry about the creature.”

“I wish I had known it was there,” he murmured. “Elsa never told me it existed-- maybe she didn’t know. It should not have been independent of her, but somehow it continued.”

“And you had to end it.”

He rested his head against the window, seeing the whole event play out in his memory. “I chased it farther up into the snowfields. I presume it hides up there in the summer. I could barely see it, white on white, and it attacked me twice. But I grabbed it,” he held out his palm cupped, “and then,” he repeated the gesture that had pulled out the seidr animating it. “It didn’t resist. It collapsed and was gone.”

And with it, something else of Elsa’s was destroyed forever. He couldn’t even be sad about it, with the grief unable to reach him through the layer of numbness enclosing him. Not that he wanted to feel it-- he would rather forget all of it had happened. He only wanted to sit in the air and pretend that coming here hadn’t been a terrible mistake.

“Lukas,” Natasha said after several minutes of silence. “I was wrong to bring you here. I’m sorry.”

Hearing her echo his thought, made him reconsider and he shook his head. “No. It is home, or at least was once. Now, I don’t know.” He looked out at the lights of the city. “Can you feel a place is home when there is so much sadness?”

“I wouldn’t know,” she allowed after a moment. “The Red Room was never home. And after that, there were only places to stay, not ‘home’ in the sentimental sense.”

“What of your family?” he asked. “Do you remember them?”

She hesitated before shaking her head. “I have some images, feelings, but I don’t know if they’re real, or a little girl’s imagination.”

“You didn’t try to find your parents?” he asked. “Later?”

She gave a little shrug. “They’re dead.”

He thought of Odin and Frigga being dead, and his mind shied away from it, unwilling to go there. As much as he wanted to be apart from them and as angry as he was at them, he didn’t want them gone either. And there were his other 'parents' of bloodline that he rather wished were dead, so he could forget they had ever existed. But of certainty the Red Room had been a far worse fosterage than his, and to lose her parents besides was a sorrow.

"I think they would be proud of what you’ve become, Natalya.”

She shook her head once and replied in a voice little more than a shadow, “No, I’m sure they would be ashamed of what I’ve done.”

It hurt to hear the belief, and he shook his head in denial. But he didn't want to force her to air what she was so ashamed of doing, so he tried to lighten up the grim conversation and let her know how he believed in her. “Nonsense. Are you not the trusted companion of the hero Captain America? Did you not single-handedly save the legendary Ice Demon, me, from the perfidious Strucker and his minions?”

Her lips quirked in a reluctant smile. “Not single-handedly.”

He waved it off as unimportant. “Close enough. How could any parent not be amazed by such offspring? No, were they alive, they would be astonished that their blood produced you. Astonished and proud.” He seized her hand and kissed her palm. He was tempted to see how far she’d let him kiss her, but after a glance at their perch and the distance to the ground, he decided not to play games with her safety. The fall was no trouble for him, but she might be hurt and he wouldn’t take the chance.

He folded her fingers over where he’d kissed and let go of her hand, feeling oddly bereft afterward. He glanced back inside the room toward the bed, imagining her warmth against his, but turned away. Who knew what embarrassing thing he would do in that sort of intimacy? It was better to keep to himself.

The uncertain flicker of her lips wasn’t quite a smile, but more genuine than most of her expressions, that she was touched by the compliment but couldn’t quite believe it. “That’s kind--”

“Not kind,” he interrupted. “True.”

She shook her head. “You can’t know that.”

He lifted his brows at her. “Of course I can. Have I not met more human parents than you can imagine?” But he stopped and his humor slipped away, as he was struck by the knowledge that he knew because he was a parent-- had been a parent. Not that Elsa had particularly _needed_ a father, since she was already grown when they’d met, but he’d been proud of her.

He had to look away from Natasha, as his chest felt tight at the reminder that it was all ashes now. The castle was ruined, the book was gone, her ice creature destroyed… everything of her had been stripped from him.

Not everything - the toy ball Thor had given to Elsa’s baby, that still existed, but it was little comfort since he didn’t have it. He might never get it back, whatever Coulson had promised.

“You’re thinking about her?” Natasha asked in a murmur.

Wishing he weren’t quite so transparent to her, he made himself smile and spun a different tale instead, “Actually I was thinking of the Bartons. Since a pony and drums appear to be out of the question for Lila’s birthday or I risk their parental wrath, only a lightsaber will do. So I was pondering how I might create one for her.”

She eyed him, but added dryly, “One she can’t cut off her foot with, preferably.”

He frowned at her, trying to look serious. “Where’s the challenge in creating one that doesn’t work?”

She chuckled. “I’m not buying that. You know better.”

“I am intrigued by the technical problem,” he admitted. “But no I would not give Lila one so dangerous. But I think I might be able to make one that works more realistically than the toys they sell. But I would need some sort of facility.”

She hesitated, and he knew she was thinking of SHIELD, which certainly had the technical supplies and which he would also reject. “How about you talk to Stark? His tower’s full of things you might be able to play with and he did mention he’d like to talk to you when you were up for it.”

Loki had a vague memory of Tony Stark in the hospital in Sokovia, and nodded. “That’s an excellent idea, Natalya. Thank you.” But he was suddenly restless and no longer wanted to sit in the window and watch stars. “I think I will go find somewhere loud and energetic to while away a few hours. I will meet you for breakfast.”

She called his name as he slipped off the window sill and let himself fall to the ground. The gravel path below crunched beneath his boots, making it an easy landing, and he waved up at her before heading off to find something to do.

* * *

In the morning, Lukas was wearing the green shirt that Natasha had liked so much on him the last time they were in this town. It fit snugly, tucked into black jeans, and when he put a long black wool coat over it, it reminded her strongly of his armor. It also drew eyes, and she knew that was the intention since he didn’t need the coat, but she couldn’t blame him for wanting positive attention. He seemed in a good humor after his night out, jesting with both Natasha and Steve at breakfast. She was glad to see it, even if she knew most of it was meant to deflect from any serious conversation.

She was wearing her civilian clothes, too, sidearm at her back under her jacket and a knife in her low boot. Steve had left his tac suit and the shield in the quinjet, and he didn’t mention anything about Lukas destroying the creature, turning back Lukas’ teasing mildly.

As they headed outside, it occurred to her to wonder where Lukas’ shirt had come from, since he’d been wearing the shirt when he’d been taken captive. It looked real and felt real when she brushed the silk sleeve to check surreptitiously, but it couldn’t be the same shirt. But she didn’t bother to ask, since the answer was obviously magic. She must be getting used to it.

Lukas shared historical tidbits about the waterfront as they ambled along. Nothing personal, she noticed; he was keeping a distance between himself and what he was talking about. His pace was slow and she realized what he was doing when he stopped to give a recitation on the building at the corner of the square, and he put his back to the bronze statue in the middle.

“Lukas,” she cut in softly in a pause in his chatter. “Let’s show Steve the statue.”

The words died away, and he had to swallow before turning with a forced amusement. “Well, yes, the absurdity is this way, if you want a closer look.”

Unlike the last time Natasha had seen it, now there were several bouquets of flowers, two plums, and a jar of plum preserves left on the base of the statue. Arendelle knew he was back, even if no one knew Luke Rendell was the Ice Demon.

He snorted at the jar. “So, what do you think?” he asked Steve. “Mind you don’t mock it, because I can show you far worse things for Captain America. Natalya will back me up on that.”

Steve folded his arms and regarded the statue before nodding. “Dull pose, but it looks like you in the face. Not bad. I like it.”

Lukas rolled his eyes. “You have terrible taste.”

Steve turned, smiling. “It’s well-balanced, the wolves are dramatic, it’s a good depiction of you….”

“It’s ridiculous,” Lukas replied shortly. “I was barely in this nation. This shouldn’t exist. All of this-” he gestured to the offerings on the pedestal, jaw tight, “It’s someone else, not me.” He turned on his heel and walked down the shallow steps, coat flapping at his legs like a cape. “Come, there is a fishing museum. You should visit.”

Natasha could think of little she was less interested in seeing than a fishing museum, but she didn’t think Lukas was either. His main intent seemed to be in heading the opposite direction from the castle.

“Lukas,” Steve went after him. “Wait.” When Lukas stopped, Steve circled around. “Look, I wasn’t -- I’m not -- happy with how Captain America became bigger than I am. It’s become a symbol, just like the Ice Demon has become one here.”

“I didn’t _ask_ to become their symbol!” Lukas retorted, voice harsh and eyes blazing.

Natasha might have challenged that, since he had asked for it by using the name in the first place, but Steve kept his tone soft. “That doesn’t matter. You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, or it’s not you.”

“I can. What they want, is a phantom. A _saviour_ ,” he snarled the word. “That is most certainly not me.”

He stalked away, and behind his back, Natasha and Steve exchanged a glance.

Lukas got a few paces away and stopped again, arms folded. They followed after, and Natasha tried first, now that she understood. “They’re not asking you to save them, you know. They’re thanking you for what you already did.” His lips parted to object, but she overrode him, knowing what he was about to say, “No, stop, you’re not seeing it. They were under brutal occupation, the people were threatened and getting murdered, and you answered their call for help. You don’t feel like you did very much, but you _answered_. You were a real person who gave them hope that it would end. And it did.”

Steve jumped in. “That’s the thing I learned in the war. Captain America isn’t about me, not really. I just have to keep the image out of the mud, and it’ll outlast me. It’s a legacy, at this point, just as the Ice Demon is, for you.”

Lukas pondered that before he snorted. “It’s me but it’s not me. Make up your mind.”

But beneath the surly comment, there was some genuine understanding breaking through and Steve heard it. “We do what we can. Try to be true to their ideal, but at the end of the day, we can’t let it imprison us. We have to live our lives, too.”

Natasha wondered how much of that Steve had articulated for himself before and how much would stick, but for the moment, it seemed to help Lukas, who nodded slow acceptance.

She jested lightly, “That’s why I’m glad I’m a spy, not a superhero. No public image to live up to.”

“Hang around us long enough, and you will,” Lukas said, and even though he was making a joke, she grimaced thinking it was probably true. “So, fish museum?” he prompted, waving his hand to invite them to continue on.

“How about you show us the castle?” Natasha asked.

Lukas stilled, something dark and angry glinted in his eyes that she kept prodding him to do things he didn't want to do, and then he gave a disarming smile, gesturing, “You can see it from here. There’s nothing left.”

Steve glanced at it before turning back to Lukas. “I know the Nazis destroyed it, Lukas. And I remember how upset you were when you found out. You haven’t been there, have you?” When Lukas didn’t answer, Steve knew and said, “Let’s go visit.”

“There’s nothing there,” Lukas repeated, petulantly.

But Steve ignored that, to get to the heart of the problem. “We’ll be with you. Come on.”

“Fine,” Lukas snapped. “You want to see a pile of rubble and some grass? Let’s go see it.” He marched across the pavement of the square and the path along the quay, but his anger didn’t last, since he seemed to have a need to tell them about the castle as it had been. “This was a causeway before they filled in this side. Probably with the rubble from the castle.”

A low wall marked the perimeter of the castle property, now landscaped with low hedges and rose bushes. There was an open metal gate and a sign proclaiming the place a park. Lukas paused. “The gate looked very different then, and the wall was much higher.”

On the grounds, there were explanatory displays along the pathways, including copies of photos of the place before its destruction. Lukas ignored them, as he ignored anything modern.

“The courtyard,” he murmured and turned in place to look. The courtyard itself was grass and stone cobbles in no particular order, only what was left of them. The castle itself was mostly leveled, leaving a warren of partial walls. Natasha wondered what he was seeing as he turned slowly in place, because he wasn’t seeing what was left.

He headed to the west, taking a path around to a side garden between what had been the palace structure and the outer fortification.

There he stopped, attention captured by the sight of a statue inside a water fountain.

It was a beautiful monument of white marble, of a woman with long hair in a braid and a small crown on her head. There were snowflake patterns in her gown and around her feet. The worn carving in the base read _Elsa, 1785 – 1823_. It looked old enough to have survived the castle’s destruction somehow, and certainly Lukas was staring at it as if it were a miracle.

Lukas stood at the rim of the fountain and translated the words at the bottom, “Beloved queen, mother, sister, and--” his voice choked, “daughter.” Steve jerked as if he intended to offer some kind of sympathy, but Natasha held him back, knowing this moment was for Lukas himself.

He stared, lip quivering, for several seconds until he shut his eyes, face crumpling, and a ragged breath tore from him. His chest heaved, and he fell to his knees. His head tilted back and his mouth opened. For a moment, nothing emerged, until something snapped and he cried out, wordless but pure in its anguish. He collapsed forward, head in his hands, sobbing breaths tearing from him, uncontrollably shaking.

Steve jerked free from her hand to kneel beside him. “Lukas, oh God, Lukas, here, it’s okay, buddy.” Wrapping an arm around Lukas’ back, Steve urged Lukas to rest his head on Steve’s shoulder and put the other arm around him, too, to hold him tight. “I’ve got you.”

Natasha joined them, rubbing a hand across his shoulders and back of his neck lightly. This wasn’t about Elsa; it was all the suffering he’d endured, bursting out from the deep wound in his heart and soul.

“Let it out,” she murmured. “Let it all out, Lukas. So much pain, but you don’t have to hold onto it.”

His breakdown lasted less than a minute, before he stirred, ragged breaths easing, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

Steve smoothed a hand one more time down Lukas’ back before pulling away. “Feel better?” he asked softly, blue eyes free of judgment or scorn, only sympathy.

Lukas couldn’t meet his eyes, jaw twitching, and shrugged a shoulder. “A little. I apologize for slobbering all over your shirt.”

“No need,” Steve answered, smiling at the half-hearted humor. “I’m glad to help.”

Lukas inhaled a deep breath, pulled his feet under him, and stood. His friends rose with him, flanking him, as he looked at the monument again.

He wiped off a lingering tear on his cheek, but other than that, his face remained calm, thoughts and emotions held to himself. After a silence, he held out his palm. A pale blue light formed and swirled, and when it dissolved, there was a figurine made of ice sitting in his hand.

It was similar to the larger statue, a woman in a long dress with her braid in front of one shoulder, but this one was clearly drawn from memory: she smiled with delight, and looked nearly alive. Her hands were held high to launch snow up and over her head. The statue didn’t move, but the spray did, sending snowflakes shooting upward to dissolve with a shimmer.

Lukas took the figurine and set it on the ground at larger statue’s feet, and he stepped back. A sphere of glowing light flashed around it at a gesture of his fingers, and he said, “That is how I must remember her. Not in death, because all living things must end eventually, but in life.”

“She was beautiful,” Natasha murmured. Despite the brightness of the sun, the statue lost none of its definition and continued to launch tiny snowflakes in the air. She reached to touch it and found an invisible wall. No matter how she pushed, she could get no closer to the statue. Drawing back, she had to smile. It would stay there, preserved, perhaps forever.

He shut his eyes and drew a pained breath, before adding softly, “Everything of hers is lost. I cannot continue to hold on, as if it will bring her back. I am alone and wishful thinking of the past will not make it less so.”

Steve’s hand fell on his shoulder. “You’re not alone, Lukas. You have us. And Bucky and Peggy back home.”

“I think Wanda and Pietro would disagree, too,” Natasha reminded him, and wrapped his fingers with hers. “And the Bartons. You have friends, and you have family here on Earth. So many people who care about you. Don't turn your back on them."

Lukas looked at them, and they looked back. Natasha hoped he was considering that they both were alone, too – Steve by time, and Natasha by the circumstance of her training. She had a few friends now, but that was a recent development, and the world beyond that list was full of strangers and enemies, not family. For the first time in many years, she wondered about her parents. Were they still out there? The Red Room had told her they were dead, but the Red Room lied. Maybe her parents were alive. Could she find them?

Looking at Lukas’ devastation of a daughter lost almost two centuries ago, she couldn’t doubt that her parents would remember her.

“Alone together?” Lukas asked, lips curving wryly. “All of us?”

“Yes,” Steve answered with firm confidence, circling Lukas’ shoulders with his arm and pulling him close, but Natasha wasn’t left out, as Lukas’ fingers tucked between hers.

“You want to stay longer?” Natasha asked.

He glanced at the smaller statue and shook his head. “No. I’m done here. Let’s go.”

The three friends turned toward the gate. Behind them a small figurine continued to throw snow into the air, bringing a permanent touch of winter.

* * *

Crossing the square, Loki’s steps came to slow halt to look at the monument again. It still looked absurd to him, a mythical version of him that didn’t exist. And yet… he existed. He was the Ice Demon. He had promised to protect Arendelle, and the people seemed to accept and believe in that promise. He couldn’t reject that promise, because he’d made it to Elsa. Wasn’t that promise truly what remained of her?

“Lukas?” Steve asked.

“I was just thinking,” he answered slowly, “Denying that it’s me over there,” he waved toward the statue, “is also denying my promise to Elsa to protect her people. Our people,” he corrected himself. “And I don’t want to do that.”

“What does that mean? You’re staying in Arendelle?” Natasha asked, her voice so non-committal he knew she was forcing it.

“No,” he answered. “No, I can do more if I’m not here. The feral wolves are coming to this world, not Arendelle alone. And I can fight better if I am not hiding who I am. The worst people already know the truth, so it seems foolish not to admit I am the Ice Demon, even if I know I’m not the person they believe me to be.”

Steve nodded understanding. “That’s the only way to deal with it, I think.”

Loki turned to regard the statue again. Steve was right; it was better to try to live up to their faith, not hide from it because he was unworthy of it.

“I have something to do before we leave. I’ll meet you at the hotel,” he told them abruptly and headed back across the square.

He wanted them to go somewhere else, so they wouldn’t see his destination, and wandered. He was not surprised to find he’d gone to the old church. He could go inside and see the wall sculpture of Yggdrasil again.

But why? It represented the past, a person he no longer was, and beliefs he no longer held. It reminded him of a place he had never belonged and of dark memories he couldn’t escape. Seeing it again would offer no relief.

It was more tempting to seek out the kind priest he’d met before, but he turned his feet away and didn’t enter.

Back on the square, Natasha and Steve were gone, thankfully. This was something he wanted to do on his own, without their observation.

A cheerful bell jingled as he entered the door to the small shop. It sold a variety of goods -- drinks, candy, magazines, and tourist novelties. Within, Sophie, who had treated him so kindly as a stranger to her when he’d first arrived on Midgard, was helping a couple of tourists who had come off the big ship in the bay. She saw him, smiled with recognition, and waved at him. He waved back but stayed out of the way, exploring the shelf of souvenirs. There were a few replicas of the Ice Demon sculpture outside and he was tempted to buy one for Coulson.

But the sight of the small plates with the painted plums on them gave him a twinge of guilt and he was tempted to sweep them to the floor to break. How could he save anyone else, if he couldn’t save himself?

But Sophie had been kind to him, and he felt like he should reward her somehow. Perhaps he should give her a sign of the Ice Demon. Glancing to the counter to make sure she was still occupied, he conjured a few plums to sit on the top plate. But once he saw them, it seemed too subtle, too easy to brush off as a prank, so with a careful application of seidr he bent one of the Ice Demon statues into a better pose and called a small flame in the upraised hand. That seemed more satisfactory for a gift.

The bells tinkled as the tourists left so he went up to the counter.

Sophie smile was bright and welcoming. “Luke! You’re back. I had wondered what happened to you.”

The Sokovian laboratory passed across his vision and he had to blink it away. “I was able to travel on my Arendelle passport. In fact I’m not in town for long, but I wanted to thank you for your help. You were generous and kind when I was lost.”

Her face softened. “And you’re better now? Did you find work?”

“I have work, yes.” He hesitated to think of how to put it. “Security. You may see me around.”

“Do you have time for dinner?” she invited. “You look thinner, as if you’ve been eating your own cooking.”

He laughed and ducked his head. “Actually no. I don’t cook at all.”

“Well, there’s your problem. Come over and I will stuff you with my mother’s fish stew.”

“That sounds delicious, and as always you embarrass me with your generosity, Sophie. But I must decline. I’m leaving tonight, but before I left again, I wanted to be sure you knew how grateful I am for what you did for me." 

She shook her head. “It’s nothing special.”

“It was special to me. I hope to return again soon, but until then, please be well.”

She frowned sensing there was more to his words, but she also heard the farewell in them and responded to that, “You also, Luke. You are always welcome.”

He was tempted to tell her to leave a place at the table open for him, but caught back the obvious clue, and merely smiled. “Thank you, Sophie. Tell Helga hello for me, and I hope you enjoy my gift.”

He glanced at the shelf, making sure she saw the direction of his gaze, before he headed for the door, waving farewell. “I’ll see you again.” Frowning curiously, she came out from behind the counter to find out what his gift was.

As soon as he stepped outside he cast a hasty glamour so he could watch through the window unseen.

She saw the plums first, touching them to check they were real, and then she saw the statuette and gasped. She looked around for him and ran to the front, throwing open the door. “Luke? Luke!”

But of course her eyes slid right across him, not seeing past the illusion, and her gaze ended up on the statue across the square.

“Luke. Lukas. You’re him,” she whispered and shook her head as if she thought she was dreaming or hallucinating. Moving slower now, stunned, she went back inside the shop and returning to the statue. She stared at it for a moment then seized it and cradled it to her chest, lips parted and eyes still wide with amazement.

Pleased with her response, he smiled and walked away.

He had called himself Loki of Asgard once, but those days were past. He would be Loki of Midgard, the Ice Demon, protector of Arendelle and Earth. With the help of his friends and family, villains would find no victory here.

 

* * *

* * *

 

**EPILOGUE**

\-- _later_ \--

 

Erik Selvig stared blankly at the figure before him, neither impressed nor horrified by the person who had come through the rip in space-time created by the tesseract.

The same voice that had been in his mind as an insidious whisper, was now booming and proud: "Guten Tag, Herr Selvig. It is good to be home at last."

Erik returned to him words that would normally make him shudder with disgust, but his mouth formed them anyway: "Hail Hydra."

Johann Schmidt’s thin lips smiled with a lizard-like satisfaction, as he put a hand on Erik's shoulder. "It is time to remake the world. But first, there is much work ahead of us."

Erik did not, could not, do anything but nod his agreement and follow his master's command.

 

_end._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the epilogue should tell you, the next story in the Ice Demon Saga will be _The Ice Demon and the Red Skull_. Launching "soon" (not sooner than fall, let's be real, I'm not fast). Mark the fic or series to be notified of the sequel, or I'm on tumblr as "lizardbeths" if you wanna follow the process. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments/kudos are welcome, and please spread the word if you enjoyed it!


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